


Not The First Time

by Eustacia Vye (eustaciavye)



Series: Ready For The Siege [15]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Memory Alteration, Multiple Personalities, Red Room, The Hand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2015-01-27
Packaged: 2018-03-04 13:05:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 33,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3069062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eustaciavye/pseuds/Eustacia%20Vye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Red Room has to be the best. That means continuing to destroy potential rivals and enemies across the globe. That means evading SHIELD's efforts to rein them in. That means avoiding the Avengers.</p><p>No matter the cost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Light in Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry I'm late about posting. The holidays upset the usual routines. ^^; Happy New Year!

The news reports didn't know what to make of the grisly murder of Dr. Lansing in his home, even though by all accounts it was being called a home invasion gone wrong. The police were assuming that someone high on PCP or crystal meth had done it, though very few valuables had actually been taken. No one heard a thing, and with the damage done, even the gag placed in the doctor's mouth wouldn't have prevented others from hearing the screams. There had been an awful amount of blood, enough to make the detectives on the scene sick, enough to leave tracks around the house.

Tracks that corresponded to boots in Natasha's shoe size, which was just a half size larger than Yelena's. No other tracks were there.

Clint hadn't wanted to agree with Loki that Natasha was doing this on her own, that she wasn't willing to return to SHIELD and the rest of them. "Something is happening there, something big," he said, looking at the others. Tony looked away, his faith in Natasha shaken even without seeing the remains of Dr. Lansing. "There has to be a tie between them, a reason why she went _there._ Surveillance at the hospital showed Yelena and the Winter Soldier, not Natasha, but they tossed Lansing's office and killed whoever got in their way. There's a reason why they went after Lansing, just like there was a reason why they went after Sarkissian."

"You're saying Lansing is Hydra or AIM?" Steve said. It might be that he was willing to play along, or that he understood how Natasha operated. He was far more idealistic than she was, sure, but he wasn't the Boy Scout that the media tried to paint him. She was a spy with ideals, and though her methods didn't sit well with him, Steve knew that Natasha did things for very specific reasons. She had left to save their lives, bartering her own for theirs. What else did Yelena and the Winter Soldier hang over her head?

"It doesn't matter, does it? He's dead," Tony replied. "That wasn't an assassination. I mean, that's what she does, she assassinates people. I can deal with that in a theoretical kind of way, sort of. Like a numbers game. But knowing she cut someone up, slowly and painfully, _torturing_ someone..." Tony pushed back from the table they were all sitting at, looking a little green around the gills. "I can't do that. I can't laugh and pretend it didn't happen. She's scary enough as it is, I can't parse that right now."

Loki had sat at the end of the table, away from the others, gaze turned inward and expression sour. He had nothing to say after explaining how Natasha hadn't been willing to return, that she had been cold and heartless, that she wanted nothing to do with them. The others at first thought that he was merely being melodramatic, falling apart without her again. He certainly seemed to be more withdrawn. Tony had joked about that for all of two seconds before lapsing into silence, which was probably a first.

"Her _spá_ has changed," Loki said abruptly. "Everyone has a lifeline, one the Norns had crafted for them. I knew what hers was like before that bitch blocked me." He didn't look at anyone, didn't uncross his arms, still looked sour and upset. "Natasha appears different now, her lifeline changed. It frayed, it warped, it rewove into different patterns. Several different lifetimes woven into hers all at once."

"That's what the Red Room did to her," Clint said. "They took out her personality, they put others in. The SHIELD shrinks had a field day with her when I brought her in. I think it took a team of five about six months around the clock to work out the triggers and personalities that were in there, and even then she was on probation for almost a year."

"But Fury trusts her," Tony said. "Practically looks like a doting father where she's concerned."

"The Natasha we know never existed before she came in to work for SHIELD," Bruce said, looking at Clint. "That's what you're telling us. She was someone different before. Several someones different." He paused, thinking back. "She told me she started as a child. I thought she was exaggerating at first."

Steve sighed loudly. "Whatever is going on, she's still our friend. She still needs us. It's not too much different from when Loki tried to discredit her," he said, waving in Loki's direction. "We were here for her then, trusted her then. She needs us to do that now."

"She's a killer," Loki snapped. "She left the lot of you, all but said you don't matter."

"You don't get it, do you?" Clint snapped angrily. "She's a fucking spy and even her own mind was suspect for like, 90% of her life. Of course she'll _say_ we don't matter. Because if she says that, we stay alive. If she says that, if she acts like she doesn't care, those two won't slit our throats in our sleep. Emotions are weakness in the Red Room. _Love is for children._ It's an attachment, it's hope, it's relying on someone else, it's _wanting_ someone else, and the Red Room can't have that. You can't control someone with a personality. So they erased it. So they made her think wanting is a crime. So they punish her for being human."

Clint got to his feet and stared at everyone in turn, jaw set. "I'm never giving up on her. I know she isn't giving up on us. Her mind is fucked up, but on some level, she will _always_ do what needs to be done to keep us safe and help us. Unfortunately, that comes at the cost of her own safety and sanity, and she's only too willing to pay it. She doesn't value her safety the way we do, so it's an acceptable risk."

All eyes swiveled to take in Loki. "What?" he asked defensively.

"Okay, I get your point," Tony said with a sigh. "I'm just... not like that."

"You don't have to be. Nobody's asking you to be," Clint replied with a sigh. "But we can't abandon her, not now. Or she really will have nothing left when they're through with her."

"I'm not sure they'll want to give her up," Steve replied sadly.

"Then we make them," Bruce said suddenly. "I don't know how," he said with a self conscious smile. "But if we can figure that part out, if we make it worth their while to leave her alone, maybe it'll be safe for her to come back." He gave them a wilted smile. "I know what it's like to be out there with no supports. Or no supports I felt safe counting on. So yeah, I know what she's going through right now. She'll need us."

Loki had a blank look on his face, but Clint could see the confusion in his eyes. If he was feeling generous – and frankly, just then he wasn't – then he could allow that Loki had honestly believed Natasha's lies. Natasha was a flawless liar and manipulator, after all. And he had seen exactly what she had wanted him to see. He didn't know her as well as he wanted to, not as Clint did, not as Steve or even Sam did. Her friends saw different facets of her, and Clint probably saw more than most at this point.

Natasha had been afraid before she left, possibly because she had guessed something like this would happen. She would never be afraid for herself, not the way Clint would fear for his own safety. So he owed it to her to move heaven and earth to get her back. And then once she was safe, he could blast her a new one for putting them all in this situation in the first place.

***

Natasha had the horrible feeling of déjà vu come over her as she looked down over the building's edge. Yelena had chosen to eliminate The Hand first, then move on to Black Spectre. Those two organizations were in direct competition for what she wanted their Red Room to be, but much larger in scope. It would take a long time to eliminate them, chipping away at them little by little and trying to stem their recruitment tides. With Black Spectre, it would be easy; eliminate the brainwashing arm of the organization and unleash holy hell on the kidnapping arm, and the women would stop being converted into agents. Recruitment for The Hand, however, was far more widespread than that. They were ninjas, hirelings for anyone that wasn't willing to work with the Yakuza, with differing titles and ranks based on skills. Natasha's skills were on par with their Assassins or Dragons, but that would still leave the Scorpions, Shadows, Shinobis, Soliders, Spies and Warriors.

Still, Yelena wanted this done to move forward. James remained stoic as Yelena outlined her master plan for the three of them. He was used to moving forward on orders, personal survival be damned. She wanted to shake him, tell him that he didn't have to be the Winter Soldier anymore, they could be whoever it was that they wanted to be. But then time slipped sideways for her, and she found herself staring at Yelena and wondering when Natalie Rushman had a sister.

She had gotten more clothing in black, strapped on her weapons and her gauntlets, climbed on top of the building Yelena had insisted was a haven for The Hand. Everything looked familiar here, as if she had been there before. She had done this, had moved through the security measures as if it was merely a training exercise, crouched down on the ledge and looked over into the training courtyard.

Had she been there before? Had she been part of them at one time?

A shiver worked its way down her spine. Yelena had sent her here, was also supposed to be attacking the building, and James would come in once they gave the signal. Were they all doomed to fail?

Wait. There was the flash of Yelena's blonde hair. She was climbing up the side of the courtyard in the shadows, having a little more difficulty than Natasha would have expected. Her scores on field test trials hadn't been that far behind Natasha's, and she had exposed herself to the same chemical cocktails that she had injected Natasha with. But Natasha also had Hel's blessings and Loki's prior spells, which likely made the difference.

For a moment, Natasha almost missed Loki. She missed tying him down and fucking him, being in control, subtly directing him toward keeping his own ledger. She missed his touch, the way the magic augmented what he could do. Not that Yelena and James couldn't satisfy her, but it was different, more of a challenge to stay engaged.

Yelena moved into position over the courtyard. A flash of irritation was clear on her face, perhaps because Natasha had been waiting for her. She nodded down, pulling out her knife; it had seemed silly to Natasha to climb to the roof and work their way down, but James was going to shoot his way in and move up.

If Natasha and Yelena were Dragons, he was most like a Warrior.

Yelena started the count with a flick of her blade. One, two, three.

She fell from the edge of the roof onto a pacing guard, her momentum bringing him to the ground. Before he hit the floor, she pushed off of him, lessening the impact and imparting more force to his crash. It knocked him out immediately, and she took off to the next in line. He didn't know what hit him as he was kicked into the wall, his face colliding with it with a sickening crunch. Around the corner of the balcony was another lounging guard, felled before he could raise the alarm, choking on his crushed larynx. Natasha grasped the railing of the balcony and flipped herself over it as Yelena sped past its entrance inside the building, both knives out and already slicked with blood.

Down a floor, and she repeated the same sorts of attacks. Natasha moved stealthily through the shadows, disabling whoever she saw in Hand uniforms as quickly and quietly as possible. It wasn't always a killing blow, though she knew Yelena would scoff at her tactics. Natasha went for expediency, and sometimes it took more effort to kill someone than to simply knock them unconscious and move on. It wasn't as if her moves were light love taps, either. If these fools actually tried to get up again, there was serious damage and concussions to contend with, so they were still out for the count.

Something about the way that the men moved made Natasha think these were simply trainees, that they had never actually seen combat. Or perhaps she was simply that good, between the spells and chemicals and training, the lifetimes living uncomfortably beneath her skin. It never used to weigh so heavily on her before, but now they simmered, waiting for her to use them, waiting to be heard. They wanted to _live,_ not simply be imagined.

Had she trained here? Had a lifetime been implanted where she worked with The Hand?

She was on this floor ahead of Yelena, and there were no balconies beneath this one. Heading in through the French doors, Natasha had a wide grin on her face when there were trainees inside, four men and one woman standing against the wall trying to appear nonchalant. Oh, Natasha was going to enjoy this. "Hey, fellas," she crooned. "Let's dance."

They didn't believe in chivalry, but charged at once. The woman hung back a moment, eyes cool and assessing. Natasha let that fact settle into the back of her mind, and simply started to move as if it was a choreographed ballet. Jeté, rond de jambe, elevé, Arabesque, soubresaut, sissone ouverte tombé and piqué; moving in perfect four-four time, her arms and legs were weapons faster than theirs, and it almost didn't seem fair to add her knives to the mix. But a simple strike didn't knock them out, and they were on a timetable. So snick-snack-snick, fountaining blood from slit throats, and Natasha was facing the woman left in the room. "Your friends weren't very good at this."

"They weren't my friends." Her voice was lightly accented, and Natasha didn't place it as Japanese at all. A Hand recruit then, not born into the clan. By the looks of it, she wasn't a willing recruit, either. The woman tilted up her chin, her almond eyes narrowed slightly as she took in Natasha and her stance, the wet blood on her knives and the guns she hadn't even touched yet. "You're going to kill them all."

"Part of the plan, yes."

"This is just one training house."

"We'll get them all."

"We?" There was something almost like anticipation in the woman's eyes, as if she wanted to ask to come along with Natasha.

A crash from down the hall, and Natasha cocked her head at the sound. When the sound repeated, her heartbeat slowed back to normal. That would be James entering the building, flashy and drawing attention away from the top floors. He would have his rifles, guns and grenades, flash-bang-boom, a relentless machine, an avatar of Death herself.

Her lips curled a little, a slight smirk. "Yes, we."

"I can tell you where the other training houses are."

"Why should I trust you?" Natasha asked, rather than replying _I already know where they are,_ though suddenly she was certain that she _did_ know where they were.

"They killed my family."

"Why not kill you, too?" she asked.

"They want what I know, access to family accounts..." The woman shrugged. "They didn't like it when I said no."

Something rang untrue in the statements, and Natasha trusted her instinct on that. She kept her smirk of a smile and gestured toward the door. "Well, then. Let's go."

The woman paused before opening the door. "Why do you want to destroy The Hand?"

"You don't need to worry about that."

Halfway down the hall, they ran into Yelena. She hadn't been terribly neat about her kills, apparently, which Starkovsky would have taken her to task for. Perhaps she did it because Starkovsky wasn't around any longer. If there was any justice in the universe, he would be merrily roasting in hell alongside the megalomaniac dictators of the world.

Yelena's eyes narrowed when she saw the woman with Natasha. "Well, now."

Natasha gave Yelena a sweet smile. "Imagine my surprise when I see her, and she says that she can help us find the other training houses."

With a bark of startled laughter, Yelena approached. "Oh, yes, I suppose Myung would know exactly where they are." When the woman tried to side step Yelena, Natasha moved into the space to block her. "I remember you, Myung. And I think you remember me."

"I don't know who you are or what you're talking about..."

"Oh, don't lie," Yelena crooned, continuing her steady advancement. She had her teeth bared and eyes flashing. What did she remember? What happened with this woman?

"I'm not lying," Myung protested.

"You're lying," Yelena insisted. "You remember the chair. The bamboo shoots. Dousing me with rice wine then lighting it, then putting it out with water only to apply electricity." Myung had grown more and more pale as Yelena spoke, and her retreat stopped only at the tip of Natasha's knife. "You remember. You have to remember, _because I do."_

But memory was faulty, wasn't it? Wasn't it?

Natasha remembered this place, remembered the sequence of the watch, remembered how the trainees moved. She could dance to its predictability. She _did_ dance to its predictability, and this woman's gaze had been assessing, judging her, weighing her movements as carefully as any dancehall judge.

No, this woman wasn't an innocent.

She didn't stop Yelena from sinking her knives into Myung's stomach, driving her into Natasha's outstretched blade. The Korean woman collapsed into Natasha's arms, a betrayed expression on her face, and then her throat was sliced open quickly. Blood poured in a wave down her chest, her breath gurgling.

"Let's go," Yelena said, stepping over Myung as the blood continued to pool around her. "We still have work to do."

Gently, Natasha laid Myung on the floor and continued to move. The bangs and shouts from the floors below were growing louder, and James needed them. They all had to do their part, clockwork machinery to get the job done.

The Lady Hel would be so proud of all of them.

***

"So was it really about ideals, _Rooskaya?"_ Natasha hissed, pushing Yelena into the wall of their hotel room as soon as the door was shut and locked. They were both battered and wounded, blood on their clothes. It hurt to slam Yelena like that, but Natasha was furious.

"What are you talking about?" Yelena asked wearily. The day's events were getting to her; even Hand trainees were formidable.

"You wanted revenge on Myung for what happened to you," Natasha hissed, shaking Yelena. She sensed James still behind her, watching them with the patience of a coiled snake despite his own wounds. He wouldn't interfere, not until he knew what it was about.

"Who?" Yelena asked, grunting when Natasha slammed her into the wall again. "I don't remember what you're talking about. I don't remember most of it. Once we got into the building, it starts to be a blur."

"I found a Korean woman named Myung surrounded by Hand trainees. I thought they were going to do to her what Starkovsky did to us, but her behavior wasn't quite right. Then when you saw her, you said she tortured you. Burned you, electric shocks."

Yelena's eyes grew distant. "I remember. I don't remember. It's all blurry, faded."

"We need to heal," James interrupted, voice even.

Natasha slammed Yelena into the wall one more time and then moved to the bag of medical supplies. They had bought some items from various drugstores as they moved through cities, avoiding SHIELD's facial recognition software. James and Yelena had also stolen quite a quantity of supplies from San Marino when they had raided it. Most of the affected staff and affected patients had been killed, the disruptor destroyed in the scuffle. Yelena had found the data on the computer and pulled it off onto a flash drive, and destroyed Lansing's computer in a fit of rage. Many of his paper files regarding its use were also destroyed, and any notes about the serum he was experimenting on.

They looked after themselves and each other in terse silence, and Natasha had to stitch a few deeper stab wounds on James' body. Yelena shook too much to do it, as if she was going into shock, and Natasha had to wonder how many triggers had activated in that training house. She didn't react when Natasha checked her scalp for head wounds, or when she suggested that Yelena lie down on the bed next to James. Usually she insisted that Natasha had to stay in the middle, but right now Natasha was taking charge. They acted like broken dolls, marionettes with their strings cut or mangled. She remembered that James tended to crash after missions, especially if they were more dangerous than anticipated, and it accelerated his healing. It was hard for him to override the programming left in his mind, especially when it was beneficial.

She crawled into the bed beside Yelena, who stared at the ceiling with glassy eyes. Natasha didn't like the look of that, and slid her hand along Yelena's stomach. The blonde didn't even flinch. Natasha leaned in to kiss her jaw, a gentle caress of a kiss even though there was still some simmering anger beneath her skin. Yelena still didn't respond to her.

No, that wouldn't do at all. Yelena had to be controlling her own body. Natasha wouldn't accept a marionette pulling on her strings.

She licked Yelena's lips, moving to hover over her body. Her lips parted slightly, but she was still largely unresponsive. "Lena," Natasha murmured against her mouth, stroking a breast over her clothes. "Come out and play."

Still nothing, so Natasha straddled Yelena and started to take off her clothes. Yelena didn't resist, even helped take off her bra and panties, movements wooden and automatic. Was this kind of behavior how she had been with Starkovsky? It was a horrible thought.

"Lena," Natasha murmured, simply caressing her. It was wrong to do more without her full consent, she knew that much. Her Red Room self wouldn't have stopped, would have gotten what she needed as long as there was the opportunity to. "Lena, it's Natalia. It's safe, lovely girl, it's us. No cameras, no sponsors." Yelena shuddered a little, perhaps remembering the last time Natasha had said such things to her. Trailing her fingers along the underside of Yelena's breast, Natasha murmured "Love, wake up. Come back to me."

Her eyes fluttered, and she looked at Natasha in confusion. "No drills today?"

Natasha smiled in relief. "No, Lena. No drills today."

Yelena smiled in return, sweet and relieved. "Oh, good. I don't know the routine well enough yet, I don't want to be whipped."

"No whippings," Natasha promised, her heart breaking a little. Yelena had regressed to age eleven or twelve, then. It was better than finding a different personality lying beneath her, since they wouldn't have recognized her. "Winter's here resting, just to keep us safe."

Her heartbreaking smile was still in place as she reached up to tug at Natasha's shirt. "Okay, then. He won't stop us, will he?" She laughed delightedly when Natasha shook her head, and tugged harder. "Good. Take this off, then. Let me see you, Natasha."

Off came the bloodied and torn clothing, the bra and panties stained with blood. Yelena grinned delightedly at the sight of Natasha kneeling on the bed in front of her, bare and ready for her touch. "Tell me what you want, Lena," Natasha murmured. Oh, she was still angry with Yelena, but perhaps it wasn't entirely her fault everything had gone straight to hell.

"I want your mouth on me," Yelena said, a shy smile on her face despite the bold words. They had been twelve together, experimenting on each others' bodies, figuring out ways to reclaim their identities after their sponsors ripped them to shreds. She ran a hand over the rise of Natasha's breast, then rubbed the nipple with her thumb. "Let's forget about the whips and bruises, the blood on the floor. Help me forget..."

Twelve year old girls, fighting each other, maiming each other, practically killing each other as old men watched in silent speculation. Twenty-eight girls slowly whittling themselves down, one by one by one, and now only two were left. Natasha definitely wanted to forget it all, wanted to bury herself in sensation and let go of everything.

Yelena first. James could take care of her once he woke.

Comfortably lying on her stomach, Natasha spread Yelena's legs and set to work licking and nuzzling the folds there. Yelena's breath quickened when Natasha swirled the tip of her tongue over her clit, soft at first, then gradually more and more pressure. The moans increased in volume, her thighs quivering on either side of Natasha's head. Yelena reached down to touch Natasha's crown, but she didn't pull on her hair or push at her. "Please, please," Yelena panted, her voice a high pitched whine. "Tasha, Natasha, please..."

Natasha continued until Yelena jerked beneath her lips and came. Her cries woke James, but he stayed where he was and merely observed the two of them in action. Natasha could see the rise of his cock, the desire building. He wouldn't touch Yelena, knowing she didn't like men, but he would fondle Natasha, kiss her, fuck her senseless. They loved each other, and it was a testament to how fucked up the Red Room was that this was the only way any of them could ever demonstrate how much they cared for one another.

Sitting on her haunches, Natasha looked at the two of them, her broken loves, her heart aching in her chest. Love wasn't enough, she knew that, but sometimes she wished it was. If she could fix them somehow, take the triggers out of their minds, leave them something other than the Red Room's shattered marionettes...

"Don't look so sad," Yelena murmured, sliding a hand along her thigh. "We still have each other, Natalia. They can't take that away from us."

But they did. They had destroyed what they had, and for a long time, Natasha had even forgotten what Yelena had meant to her, what James had been for her.

"Come," Yelena urged, pulling on her leg. "Come here, we'll take the sad away." She turned to James with an entreating expression. "Won't you, Winter? Because she loves you, even if she's not supposed to. She loves you like I love her, and she loves us both."

Oh god, Natasha's chest _burned_ now, and she wanted to cry. This was what she had wanted when she burned down the Red Room. This was what she wanted to save. How could she be angry with Yelena now?

Carefully, they rearranged themselves on the bed, too narrow for all three of them at once. But Natasha straddled Yelena's face and bent her head over the juncture of her thighs. James knelt behind them both, lining up his cock to slide into Natasha as Yelena licked at her clit. Slowly at first, teasing, then faster and harder as if they had done this all the time while the Red Room was in operation. The three of them worked in unison, a seamless entity, as if they could slide inside of each other. This was what it meant to feel whole. The three of them together, and Natasha didn't feel empty, didn't feel the aching pressure of her ledger weighing down on her. It would be balanced, she wasn't awful, it would get done. Everything would be all right. She could do this, she could do anything.

Even crashing down from the high didn't take that feeling away. They were tangled up in each others' arms on the bed, hearts beating erratically, triggers and personality overlays silent. It could work. She would make it work.

They would take out the competition and Natasha would bring them home to SHIELD. She could save them, she could keep them.

She could make it work. She had to; she couldn't bear to lose them again.

***

There was no obvious sign of Natasha or the others. Clint didn't think there would be, but that kept a few junior agents busy. She had few friends within SHIELD that Clint knew of; Fury was definitely someone she trusted and respected, Maria Hill was tolerated and may have been liked if they spent more time together, and she liked Melinda May. Most agents weren't worth her time, because they couldn't see past her reputation or origins. Oh, she was pleasant enough to a number of people, but that didn't mean they were friends.

So he barged into Fury's office when Sitwell and Hill weren't around. Natasha definitely was irritated often with Sitwell's bland expressions and Clint knew Hill got irritated with him. Not that Fury wouldn't be, especially with barging in and likely creating _more_ paperwork, but this was about what was best for Natasha.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't get your ass hauled out of here," Fury snapped without looking up from his computer screen.

Clint didn't think that meant Fury was unaware of him. "Natasha."

That got him to look up. "What about her? There had been radio silence."

"Contact was made. Sort of."

"Explain."

Fury was silent as Clint related Loki's visit, Natasha's statements and his own theories as to her behavior. "You think she's going to bring them in," he said after a long period of silence.

"I think it's a distinct possibility." Clint paused. "I've thought about what they could have hanging over her head other than our lives, and I don't think it fits. They're taking out Hydra and AIM personnel or collaborators. Messy and not at all how SHIELD regs would want it, but they're being taken out. I'm thinking she's pushing the targets."

"Word out in terrorist cells is that the Red Room plans on making a comeback."

"Sir, those three _are_ the Red Room."

Fury steepled his fingers in front of his face and steadily stared at Clint. "So how am I to know for certain she hasn't reverted?"

Clint wanted to sigh and roll his eyes. "She makes the sacrifice play. She puts herself into impossible situations because her safety isn't as important to her as the mission. Yelena mattered to her when they were in the Red Room, before their heads got fucked with. Before she disappeared, she wanted our help with Yelena so it wouldn't get out of hand. We've seen what she's capable of with the Sarkissians."

"It could be triggers we missed."

"No, those are gone."

"Are you that confident we got them out?"

"Yes. And I think you are, too. You wouldn't send her on so many sensitive missions if you didn't. And she wouldn't trust you if any were left."

Fury leaned back in his seat and stared at Clint, but the archer refused to squirm. "You believe what you're saying."

"Absolutely."

"Or she could be fooling us all, playing a long game."

"Well, sir, that's crap," Clint replied flatly. "She was scared before heading out to stop Yelena, and requested that we help her take her down. That way, we could ensure she wasn't compromised and the job got done."

"The World Council—"

"Quite frankly, sir, I don't give a shit what they think. They've never been in the field, and they don't know what it can take to get the job done. They've never had to make the sacrifice play to get others out. They can't make that kind of hard call. They can push people around the world like chess pieces, they can sacrifice numbers and assets, but not because they've ever been on the ground in the middle of the action. They're paper pushers."

"You think just because you brought her in—"

"I think she's trying to do the same."

"Stop interrupting me, Agent Barton," Fury snarled. "Last I checked, I was still your superior officer around here." 

Clint snapped his mouth shut.

"That's the first smart thing you've done since stepping into my office," Fury barked. "You cannot disrespect the World Council and expect to get away with it. You are considered expendable. Even I don't get away with that shit too often." He leveled Clint with a pointed stare and let that sink in for a moment.

"Natasha trusts me, and I have earned that trust," Fury continued, still staring at Clint. "I trust her in return with certain things."

"We've become her family," Clint insisted. "She would never betray us."

"Who do you think those two were to her before?" Fury pointed out. Clint's mouth snapped shut again. "If it comes down to us or them, who do you think would win out?"

"I think she'll try to save us all."

"But if she can't?"

Clint remained silent; he knew Natasha would _try._ Isn't that what mattered?

"It was not easy to get her head rearranged when you brought her in," Fury said evenly. "I understand the impulse to turn her, why you felt it was important. But that was _work,_ even though she wanted to cooperate. By all reports, Belova and the Winter Soldier will not cooperate with the same procedures."

Silence. Clint knew of those reports; hell, he had written some of them himself.

"I understand you want to save them, that she would want to save them. I understand you want them to make a home here, to consider us family."

"Sir..."

"But we're not a family, Agent Barton," Fury continued. Clint flinched but remained silent. "I understand a fair number of our agents take on this organization as if it was, but we are _not_ a family. We don't prioritize our missions to save one over hundreds, we do it for the greater good, to limit the chaos that this world can devolve into. It's gotten even more difficult, what with aliens and their issues thrown into the mix. _Magic,"_ he said in disgust, lips twisting around the word.

"If we can't save them, we have to cut them loose."

Clint looked at Fury, jaw tight. "I can't do that, sir. I can't abandon her, and if Belova and the Winter Soldier can be brought in, I will help do it. I know what it's like out there, Natasha knows what it's like out there. If anyone can do it, we can."

"But if we can't, we cut our losses."

Clint didn't reply, simply stared stubbornly back at Fury.

"Do you understand, Agent Barton? This is a job that demands sacrifices."

"I know. But there are limits to what we should be asked to sacrifice."

Fury leaned back in his chair. "I don't disagree with you."

"I'm on the ground, sir. I'm in the field. I haven't forgotten why I do this."

As Fury bristled with the implication, Clint stood up and headed for the door. "I didn't dismiss you, Agent."

"I don't think we have anything else left to say, do we?" Clint asked, not turning around.

There was a long pause before Fury finally said "No, I don't think there is."

Clint left without waiting for the "Dismissed."

***  
***


	2. Hiding In Plain Sight

Natasha dreamed of fire. She wore light pink pointe shoes on her feet and a loose, gauzy red dress that accentuated her ample curves. Her hair was piled on top of her head, pins and coils of braids artfully attanged, as if she was on Asgard. Natasha saw she was on stage, and shifted to go _en pointe._ The audience in front of her didn't have faces and neither did the judges. None of them seemed to notice the tongues of flame licking at the walls or the erratic, awkward shadows flickering everywhere. They clapped politely at her first fluttery steps, disinterested in the dance she was to perform. She danced around the bloodied body of Yelena on the stage, a _grand jeté_ over the corpse. Yelena was nothing more than empty eye sockets, her throat cut deep enough to expose bone and cartilage, her rib cage cracked open and exposing the empty chest cavity. Natasha knew she had yanked out the heart and lungs, had devoured them whole to gather strength for this performance.

James stalked onstage, glowering and wearing full Winter Soldier regalia. Now the audience came to life, eagerly awaiting what came next. They still ignored the fire, which came ever closer to the audience and stage.

The faceless crowd was eager to watch Natasha fight James, and didn't notice when the fire consumed the back row.

Eyes blank, he came toward her with his knife in hand. Though guns were strapped to his torso and thigh, he didn't reach for them. It was a sure sign this was a dream; when in Winter Soldier mode, there were often times where James didn't care about shooting innocent bystanders. All that mattered was the mission, the final result. If subtlety was required, a Widow would be sent in. If not, a Soldier would be.

Natasha pulled her punches and kicks at first, contorting herself and using ballet moves to artfully remain out of reach. James kept coming, relentless, as if he didn't know her. he didn't respond to any name he used for him. Looking back to the audience, she saw that several more rows were consumed by the fire.

There was an outline in the flames, someone she immediately knew was her mother. She pointed to an exit Natasha hadn't seen before. Natasha raised her hand in farewell, rolled beneath James' next blow, then escaped.

The Winter Soldier was after her; this wasn't her James, not when his eyes were blank, not when he carried a grenade launcher and a predator's grace. She felt the bullet pierce her abdomen, knew it to be a hollow point slug with the rifling filed off. That was his favorite ammunition, quick out of the barrel, difficult to trace, and enough of a signature that organizations tracking his movement could rack up a list of confirmed kills.

And she had kept track of that type of round for a long time. It had never shown up. It had been an exercise in self-flagellation, reminding herself over and over again that she had killed the one she loved, that she had destroyed the very things she tried to save. She had thrown everything away in a gamble and lost it all.

Natasha lay on the ground, looking up at the sky. The Winter Soldier was there with his knife, intent to finish the job. "James," she whispered. _"James."_

"He's dead," the Winter Soldier said in an emotionless voice. "I killed him."

She didn't even scream. There was no point, this was what she earned. If this was still a dream, she would ride it out. It was as much as she deserved, anyway.

***

"Natalia," Yelena sobbed. "You have to wake up."

Natasha jerked awake, her throat feeling raw and her cheeks wet. "What?"

"You were screaming. James put a hand over your mouth to muffle the sound, and that made things worse. Natalia, what were you dreaming about?"

"I killed you," she gulped, grasping Yelena's arms tightly. "And I couldn't kill James, but he was going to finish me."

Yelena cradled her close, and James was a lumbering presence behind her. "Natalia. I know you could never hurt me. No matter what I do to you, what others make us do to each other, you could never hurt me." She smoothed Natasha's hair from her temple, sweat making it stick to her scalp in clumps. "Come, we'll clean you up. It'll get better."

Natasha could see the truth in James' eyes. He would have killed her, once, if the Red Room commanded it. Before she had thrown herself at him, before they came to mean so much to each other, before they were used as weapons against each other. Now that they were the Red Room themselves, he wouldn't have to.

The two women were squeezed into the shower stall, James standing in the doorway as if keeping watch. Yelena didn't slip into any sexualized behaviors, and really did just wash Natasha's hair and scrub at her skin until the sour sweat was gone. Natasha shivered, and maybe there were tears, but the shower water washed it all away. This was weakness in the Red Room, and they would have been punished for this, but now that they were all that was left, they could make up the rules. This wasn't weakness, this wasn't wrong. She could cling to them in this moment, let them pull her back up, let her agent's persona slide back into place.

It was good that she broke off the deal with Loki. She couldn't handle that deadly dance of words that they had, couldn't be his domme when she felt like falling apart from the inside out. He was too unstable already, she couldn't contain him when she felt just like him.

"We'll need to move again," James murmured, watching Natasha towel herself off vigorously, her skin pink from the heat and scrubbing.

"I'll pack," Yelena offered as she dried herself off. "It won't take long."

"Do we have the next target?" Natasha asked, glad her voice no longer shook.

"There are more Hand training houses," Yelena told her. "I want to destroy the Naginata House. So we'll be up against their Scorpions and Shinobis."

Natasha laughed, a tired sound that hurt her own ears to hear. "You don't go halfway, do you?"

Her laughter was bright and bubbly. "Of course not. We'll also want to destroy the Katana and Tanta Houses. We'll take them all out, one by one, and utterly destroy the Hand before moving on to another organization." She smiled brightly at them both. "We took out one training house, we'll be able to destroy the rest."

"There are other hand to hand houses, I'm sure," James replied.

"We'll find them," Yelena said, her smile eager. She looked like an excited school girl, for all that she stood there naked in the bathroom. "We'll erase them all, and then no one will be able to say that we're not good enough. With the competition eliminated, we'll call all the shots."

Yelena certainly didn't seem like a marionette with cut strings now. Natasha found herself nodding. "I had swords and armor of my own before. I can probably go and get them."

"No," Yelena chirped. "We'll use their own equipment against them."

"Mine had spells laced into it."

Her expression didn't slip in the slightest, but a hard edge was in her eyes. "You won't go to them, Natalia. You're ours, remember? You're with us."

"Yes. But we want the best gear to take out the Hand."

"You're just shaken from your nightmare, love," Yelena replied, dismissive and still smiling brightly. It was eerie, and made Natasha wonder if she had triggered something else. "We'll have the best, and we are the best. They'll die, all of them. You'll see. You don't have to worry about any bad dreams."

James' hand came to rest on Natasha's waist. "Natalia," he said, a cautionary note to his voice. "I believe we can do this. The Hand was never a Red Room concern, and you know they sought to eliminate any viable competition."

Natasha let out a breath slowly. So much for leaving Clint and the others a message that she was all right. He didn't know about the Hand as far as she knew, so she would have to find another way. Nodding at James and Yelena, she pasted a smile on her face. "You're right. Just nerves. But if they have faulty gear, I'm blaming you," she added playfully, pointing at Yelena. "I had those weapons specially made for me on Asgard, and it's a shame not to blood them properly against my enemies." Yelena wouldn't know that was a lie.

Yelena blinked. "Asgardian steel? Hm..."

"We'll discuss this at our next location," James decided. "All of us are tired."

They collapsed on the hotel bed in a tangled mass of limbs after packing up all of their meager belongings. Getting a few hours of sleep would help before having to get on the road again. In spite of her private concerns, Natasha had no difficulty falling back asleep.

***

"Any hits?"

The poor junior agent startled, and Clint almost felt sorry for her. _Almost._ She wasn't that junior if she was a level five analyst, and the other agents had all pointed to her and said that she was the best at what she did. Clint had looked into her background first, and Zoe Veleke was a hacker on the side. She was born to a Philippine mother and a half Dutch, half Egyptian father; apparently they had all lived in New York City before moving to Atlanta, which Zoe considered home. She had been recruited by SHIELD after hacking into FBI databases in an attempt to erase her boyfriend's criminal record as a high schooler. Luckily for Zoe, SHIELD saw value in her skills. The job offer was permanent, thankfully the boyfriend wasn't. Zoe was good at languages and networks, and her college major in sociology helped her cement her standing as an analyst after graduation. She wasn't a fighter by any means, but she didn't have to be.

As level five, the petite brunette really shouldn't have had access to any of Natasha's dealings, but that was where her hacking skills came in. She intuitively knew where files would be hidden in the archives, both paper and electronic, and put in innocuous enough requests that allowed her plausible deniability as she went looking around for what she wanted. Getting Clint's request had made her light up; cracking level nine clearance codes would be quite the coup.

"Jesus, Barton," Zoe gasped. "Don't do that! You're some kind of ninja or something."

"Or something. Ninjas are quieter. If they're really good, you don't even know you're dead."

"Comforting," Zoe deadpanned. She saved the document she was working on and deftly tabbed over to the encrypted file she had been working on for Clint. "How is it that you never are in a suit and tie like everyone else?"

"I'm special," Clint snarked. He had worn dark indigo jeans and a button down shirt that day, which was decidedly casual in comparison to the dove gray skirt suit that she wore over a light blue blouse. It looked good on her, well fitted and a nice contrast to her olive skin and wavy black hair.

"That you are," she replied before turning her attention back to the screen. "Now, in answer to your original question..."

Clint visibly deflated with being told there were no hits on the Red Room, Black Widow or Winter Soldier keywords. "Oh."

 _"However,"_ Zoe continued, "That's just going up to level seven clearance."

"Wait. How'd you get that clearance?"

"That would be telling," Zoe chirped in amusement.

"Putting it that way, though, implies you got higher than that."

"Because I did," she said proudly. "Now, I didn't attempt level ten. I'm not suicidal, after all. But I managed to crack a level nine antiterrorist channel."

"You must have worked all night on that."

"Three nights and two lunches."

"I owe you dinner."

"Get me a dedicated T3 line at home and I'll call it even," Zoe replied with a smile. "I'd appreciate that much more than a meal at some trendy downtown place."

"Why didn't you work for Stark again?"

"Wasn't interesting enough. Coding a new OS is boring."

Clint grinned at her. The banter almost reminded him of Natasha. When she got back, the two of them had to meet. They could talk hacking and geeky computer things for hours. "All right. So you cracked level nine. What dirty secrets are they hiding there?"

Zoe tilted her screen. "This is some very not pretty stuff, Barton. What are you guys up to?"

"Better if you don't know," Clint murmured, peering at her screen.

The encrypted report detailed the destruction of a Hand training house. Their mole in the system, Myung DaSilva, was the wife of SHIELD agent Manuel DaSilva. She was dead along with all of the other recruits there that day. The photographs of the deaths were graphic, ranging from knife work to pistols to explosions. It had drawn Zoe's attention because of the footnote that Myung claimed that the Hand and Red Room once shared training facilities. Prior teams investigating that claim found no evidence of that.

But if there was a connection, no matter how small, Clint was going to go for it.

"Is there a lot on these Hand guys?" Clint asked her.

Zoe gave him a scornful look. "There is an entire analyst team to watch these guys."

"Oh." He held up his hands in a surrendering gesture. "I don't know. I get sent to go after Hydra or AIM. I haven't heard of these guys before."

"Think ninjas. Like, real life badass ninjas. They own far east Asia."

 _"Oh."_ He peered at the report again. "Why is this level nine stuff, then?"

"Not a clue. Maybe because of the agent involved?"

"No, no, that doesn't make sense. Look her up."

Though she pulled a face at him, Zoe did just that. Clint couldn't follow what she did to get back into the level nine databases, but it was just as well. It didn't make sense that this was level nine information, even though Agent DaSilva apparently had level nine clearance. He was a handler based out of Manila, on the counterterrorism task force, and apparently had married Myung to cement her loyalty to him. The Hand was one of his areas of specialty, just as Hydra and AIM were Natasha's.

"There," Zoe said finally, frowning at her screen. "I'm not sure if I tripped anything."

"That doesn't sound good."

She hit the print screen button and her printer whirred to life. Her fingers flew across the keys, and screens flipped past her eyes faster than Clint could keep up with. Definitely good friend material for Natasha, then. Zoe swore softly in Tagalog, then started typing faster. Sensing her urgency, Clint grabbed the screenshots and looked around the area. No obvious interest so far, but it was likely only a matter of time if the higher ups knew she hacked their system.

"You definitely owe me a dedicated T3 line," Zoe muttered, not taking her eyes off the screen.

"If I know Stark, he'll arrange for you to get your own ISP."

"Shit," Zoe hissed, then hit the print screen key again. "Your boy is not a very good man."

"What? Why?"

"I don't think he's double dipping, but he's done some serious shit as part of his deep cover. His wife was a perfect match for him."

"He was part of the Hand?"

"What better way to keep watch on them than to be part of them?" Zoe asked archly, not taking her eyes off of the screen.

Hacker, Clint reminded himself. It had likely been her philosophy when she was first hired on by SHIELD. Better than prison, too.

He definitely wouldn't be able to get anything over on Agent DaSilva on his own. He was good, but not _that_ good to avoid detection by a ninja and then threaten said ninja to see if he knew anything about Natasha or the Red Room.

Then again, he knew a certain someone with distinct disdain for humanity and all its rules and regulations. And if it had anything to do with Natasha, Loki would be there in a heartbeat.

"All right. I think I routed enough packets so that they don't realize it was me. But if I'm fucked, I'm ratting you out, Barton," Zoe said, looking up from her screen.

The anxiety was only too real on her face, so Clint didn't even think to joke about it. "I owe you big for this, I know. Dedicated T3 line is coming up, I promise."

Zoe gave him a friendly punch in the arm and a smile. "Haven't pulled any scams like this in _ages._ With my own T3, custom firewalls and progs, I'll be able to dig in a little better if you need other stuff like this."

"Oh, nobody said anything about this being done, Zoe," Clint reminded her. "It's not over as far as I'm concerned until we bring Natasha home."

"Deep cover, though," Zoe commented. "If that's her play, she's good enough not to be found."

"She'll want us to find her."

"I guess this is where we find out if I'm good enough for that."

Clint gave her a huge grin. "From what I hear, you are. And if you got me level nine goods," he added, lifting the screen shots, "then you'll find her. I'm counting on it."

Now off to find the trickster god of chaos.

***

Natasha was on her hands and knees on the bed, naked and grasping at the fluffy white coverlet desperately. The man behind her grasped her hips tightly as he slammed to the hilt into her, deep and sure, just at the right spot to make her see stars. It was a good ache, pleasure flooding her spine and making her moan.

"Yes. Like that. Louder."

She knew that voice, but it didn't make any sense. Natasha turned her head to look at Loki, facial expression unguarded, his grunts of pleasure a counterpoint to the thrusts deep inside of her. He grinned at her, fierce and possessive, and then she could feel the ghostly magical hands caress and cup her breasts, abrading her nipples. A mouth was at her clit, licking just the way to make her mouth water. Natasha obliged him by moaning long and loud, squeezing around his cock in the way that made him groan and nearly come right there.

"You're calling me, Natasha," he growled. "I quite enjoy this, and I think you missed it."

What? What was he talking about?

"I don't even mind you _summoning_ me as if I was some kind of creature you can control." Loki snapped his hips faster, used his magic to urge her on. A few more ghostly licks and she wailed as she came, overwhelmed and drowning in the feel of him.

 _I don't understand,_ she wanted to say, but that would be admitting weakness. She could never do that, never, and she had to maintain control. She had to act as if she knew everything, as if this didn't bother her in the slightest.

Sliding off of his cock, she turned onto her back and smirked up at him, spreading her legs wide for him. "Well, then. Why don't you tell me why I summoned you? It's not just for a fuck, no matter how good it is."

He preened at the compliment, just as she thought he would, and slid into her again. The magic hands were still toying with her nipples, so she let her hands wander across his stomach. Loki loved contact, the sensation of skin on skin. He was such a needy creature, such a desire to belong to _someone,_ to mean _something._

"You need me, don't you?" Loki purred. "They're escaping your control, aren't they?"

No. Yes. No.

Natasha moaned and scratched his stomach with her nails. His hips stuttered as he came, groaning. Loki's eyes met hers, and there was that look there again. She could deny it a thousand times, but he loved her. She couldn't say the same, and it would be easier to discount him if he didn't actually care about her. Somehow, challenging him had turned his anger to love over time, and he was a needy, greedy little bastard.

Loki curled up on his side next to her, one hand propping up his head as he sprawled, his other hand on her abdomen. "Perhaps there is something of the bond left between us, Natasha. Perhaps she didn't erase it completely. Your _spá_ has changed, did you realize that? You are not the woman you were when you left to find Yelena Belova."

"I'm a dozen women, at least," Natasha replied somewhat flippantly.

"Yes, you are." Loki slid his hand down her stomach and into the red curls between her legs. "I would come to you if you wished it. Where are you? What are you doing now?"

This was it, she realized suddenly. She had wanted a way to tell the others where she was and what she was doing. The wish had curled itself inside her dreams, and that seemed to be the only way she could reach him. "We're hunting ninjas," she replied with a smirk. At his blank look, she ran a hand over his chest. "Yelena wants to destroy The Hand. We took down the hand to hand training house, though there are probably more of them. We're moving to take out other training houses, reduce their organization to rubble."

There was a flash of some kind of emotion on his face, perhaps pride or interest, but then it was masked. "The others worry for you. They said I was wrong, that you push us away to protect us, not because you no longer care about us."

"Clint said that, didn't he?" she asked, sliding her hand up to Loki's shoulder. He nodded, and she smiled. "He has proved consistently that he understands exactly how I work."

"He knows you best," Loki murmured, and she could hear the hurt in his voice.

"I would hope so. He's like family."

"And those two? Yelena and the Winter Soldier."

"My first family."

"Clint believes you wish to save them. Turn them from their purpose and bind them to SHIELD."

"I can give it a try."

"Do you really think you can?" Loki asked as she curled her hand around the back of his neck.

"I can give it a try," she repeated, pulling him down for a kiss. Loki sighed against her mouth and curled his fingers into her, fingers working through the slick to find the spots that had her humming and moaning in pleasure.

"They will pull you under," he murmured once he moved to kiss her jaw.

"You thought you could."

"But I didn't know you. I never knew you, it seems. I couldn't predict you, and I still don't understand how you didn't break beneath the weight of my plans. I don't understand your strength, how you can be so resilient. How you don't need me at all."

Natasha heard the plaintive note in his voice and doubted Loki was even aware it was there. She hooked her leg around his waist and pulled him closer. "You know what I value, but you don't understand why it matters to me. You have to believe in something bigger than yourself, something more important than yourself."

"You don't value your safety."

Her breath caught as his fingers moved within her. "The mission is what matters."

"I was a mission once."

"You still are."

"Aren't _they_ your mission now?" Loki asked, viciousness in his tone. He thrust his fingers harder into her, thumb at her clit, and she moaned, throwing her head back. "You left me for them. They were more important to you—"

"They threatened to kill you all," she gasped. "Yelena... She'll do it. She will destroy herself to destroy you, and I'd lose you both."

Emotions played over his face, and Natasha could tell that he wanted to believe her, wanted to think that he mattered to her in some way. He loved her desperately, completely, and it made her feel hollow and a fraud.

She came, nails digging into his shoulder. "How did I call you to me, Loki?" she gasped.

He still worked his fingers into her. "I did not renew our broken bond. But perhaps a fragment of it remains, worked into your _spá_ and a part of you. Like your magic recognition. Like the accounting you forced onto me."

"I didn't mean to do it," she told him.

"I know. But that doesn't mean I won't take advantage of this opportunity," he said with a grin.

What day was it? Was it even one of their deal days? Was that why she was able to call him to her in this dream?

Loki kissed her, mouth hot and open over hers. "I've claimed you as mine."

He would have to get in line. Yelena did that first, years ago, long before they knew what it could possibly mean.

"I will have you back again," Loki vowed. "I will do whatever it takes."

"Don't kill them," she gasped, arching into his touch.

"I make no promises."

"Promise me that," Natasha insisted, eyes boring into his. "Make me that promise. Choose to give me this one thing, that you will let them live, let me do what I have to do in order to bring them home."

Home. New York as home. She hadn't even realized she considered it that.

It was always about choices, about shifting chance and making a choice out of it, choosing the path she would take and not allow the Red Room to determine the shape of her life. But perhaps their reach was too long and too deep, and she didn't have a choice after all. Perhaps her life had always meant to be like this, always about sacrifice and loss.

"If they harm you, I cannot keep that promise."

She couldn't tell him that Yelena wouldn't hurt her, because she already had with those damn injections. Her memory slipped and slid at times, her past lives clamoring for attention.

Natasha cried out when Loki removed his fingers and pushed his cock into her again. She wrapped her legs around his waist, keeping him close. "Keep the others safe for me in New York," she gasped.

"They have the amulets I crafted for them."

"That saves them from magic, not from bullets or knives."

"I cannot save them from their own stupidity."

"Then save them from mine."

"If this doesn't work," Loki guessed, thrusting hard into her.

"I can do it. I can help them," she insisted. "But if I can't..."

"Don't worry about New York," Loki groaned. "Change them and bring them home, before I grow too impatient. Come back to me."

Someone had said that to her before. Several someones. Different connotations, different jobs, different lifetimes. 

Natasha closed her eyes and let the sensation wash over her. It was easier if she stopped trying to think, stopped trying to best everyone at everything. Loki touched her with his hands and his magic, a steady rhythm building up until she shattered, crying out.

Loki cradled her in his arms afterward. "Let me come get you. You don't have to do this. It doesn't have to be this way. You told me that, don't you remember. Let me get you and bring you home. I'll bring them, too, if you want them. I can open a portal, it'll be easy. Halfway across your world in an instant, just tell me when."

"They're not ready."

"How much more red will you have to add to your ledger, Natasha? Will they want the same things as you? Will they want a ledger given to them? Will you force one on them the way you did with me?"

Natasha squeezed her eyes shut again and refused to look at his accusatory expression. "They didn't try to kill millions. They didn't try to take over the world. The ones that are dying killed others. They hurt people, and now they can't anymore."

"Do you forget what I am, Natasha?" Loki purred in her ear. "I am the god of lies. I know a lie when I see it."

She grasped his shoulders tightly, her nails digging into his skin. "We finish these jobs, they'll be free and I can bring them home. I can fix this. _I can do this."_

"Didn't you say that about me?" Loki asked quietly, sadness creeping into his voice. He touched her face gently. "You thought you were helping, and I hurt you. You hurt yourself to save me from Amora, and continually tried to save me from myself. I'm not fixed, Natasha. You can't fix me, I'm too broken for that. Everything I see tells me that Yelena is as broken as I am. Your Winter Soldier is as broken as I am. You can't save us, Natasha. We can't be fixed. If that's what you're waiting for, you'll never get to go home."

Giving him a sad smile, she cupped his face in her hands. "I can change things. I overshot my abilities with you, but I know them. Lady Hel gave me the time to do it, and James and Yelena won't leave me. I can do this, Loki."

"You like broken things," he murmured, turning his head to press his lips to her palm. "I suppose I should be grateful. I wouldn't have had any place to say on Midgard otherwise. But it won't help you in the end, Natasha. Even our association no doubt will harm you again in some way. I am not kind. I can't be good. I tried while you were gone. Did Steve tell you? Or your precious archer? I _tried,_ but I cannot be what you want. What makes you think that your James or Yelena could be _nice?"_

"I'm not asking for nice. I'm asking for balance."

"Maybe we don't do balance."

"I think you're more capable of it than you think."

"How can you be such an optimist, even after everything you've done and seen?"

Natasha's smile was sad. "I know darkness exists. I'm in the dark all the time. But that means also that the light shines brighter when you see it."

"I don't have that light, Natasha. _You_ are my light."

"Then you'll find your way eventually." She pulled him down for a gentle kiss to the lips. "I can't leave them, Loki. They need me. They love me, Loki. I can't throw that away."

"They're too broken to know love."

"Are you?" she asked archly.

Loki looked away, unable to answer in his shame.

"You aren't. There's no such thing."

"You said love is for children."

"We were children in the Red Room. They burned it out of us." Natasha was tired, so tired, and could hear the defeat in her voice. She was too exhausted for this kind of sparring, for hiding behind a fragment of self. "Love was useless for what they wanted us to become."

"They wanted spies. Soulless killers," Loki murmured.

"Love would only ruin that. But we still knew what it was. I learned it from death, and hardship, and brief acts of inexplicable kindness." She gave him a watery smile, thinking of how Yelena risked punishment and disfigurement over and over again in order to ease Natasha's pain, how she had found Yelena and cradled her when the nightmares grew too bad. "We were all we had there. I learned love from sacrifice."

"And you sacrifice yourself all the time," Loki murmured, a glimmer of understanding in his eyes. At Natasha's nod, he sighed. "You shouldn't."

"No matter where I've gone, or what I've done—all the dark things I do not regret, but will never speak of— I can't regret it."

"If you regret, then all the sacrifice was for nothing."

"Exactly." She blinked back tears she hadn't intended to shed. "Our individual lives weren't supposed to matter. Everything we did was supposed to be for the glory of the Red Room, to complete the mission. Our lives didn't matter to them, but it mattered to us. It still influenced our decisions, the chances we took." She cupped his face with one hand, stroking his skin with her thumb. "So we sacrificed, measured how good we were by how we go on after our hearts break. It didn't matter, because hearts always break. Children are the only ones that think they'll die from it. We knew better. We knew that the edges broke us, sharpened us, made us better. We knew it was the only way to survive in the Red Room."

"You're not there anymore, Natasha. You don't have to be this way."

"Don't I?" she asked, not commenting on how his voice was breaking. "Don't you see how easily I can break you, even without saying anything of substance?"

"But you are. _You are._ You're telling me how much you love the people in your life, even if you can't say it."

"Aren't you listening? That doesn't matter. None of it does. I have to see this through."

"You're not even making sense."

"It's perfect sense."

"Dream logic, perhaps," Loki scoffed, pushing himself off and away from her. "You're going to tear yourself to pieces for people that don't understand the sacrifice you're making on their behalf." He had a stricken expression on his face when he turned back to her. "Just like you did for me all along."

Natasha sat up and pulled her knees to her chest. "I have to see this through," she repeated. "I can fix this situation and bring them in. I need you to tell the others that."

Loki looked around the featureless room and then nodded. "The dream is fading."

She gave him a sad smile. "Time for me to wake up."

***

Loki jerked awake, eyes wild and heart pounding in his chest. He did feel as though he had bedded Natasha, had really had that conversation with her. Clint was still at SHIELD offices, but he knew Steve would be back from his volunteering. He felt like a crazed thing as he related the dream without the salacious bits, but Steve seemed to accept it. At least, he didn't seem overly upset or angry with Loki.

"We were hoping that was what she was doing."

"You believe me? You don't discount it as a mere dream?"

Steve gave him a pointed look. "Magic does lots of things I don't understand. Doesn't mean I'm going to ignore what it can do. Let's tell the others and see if we can track down where those three are going next."

"Because you want to save your friend."

"If you had any, you'd understand why we have to do this."

There was no malice in Steve's tone, but Loki still wanted to recoil. "It's a fool's errand."

"I've been called worse," Steve replied easily.

"But he didn't recognize you. He didn't know who you were."

"I know. It's still the right thing to do."

Loki let out an irritated breath. "You and your right thing to do." He glowered at Steve. "It's going to get you killed."

"Maybe. But you can't write off someone just because it's tough or inconvenient, not if they really matter to you."

Whatever cutting reply that Loki would have made was cut off when Clint came into the room with a handful of printouts. "I might have something," he said without preamble. "Some chatter in the antiterrorist groups possibly linked the Red Room to the Hand."

Steve and Loki shared a look. "You definitely have something," Loki said. He pushed his frustration with this entire situation down and again repeated the dream he'd had. "She refused to let me open a portal to her."

"Because she's stubborn and thinks she can do everything on her own," Clint replied, nearly rolling his eyes at Loki. "Don't open a portal right on top of her, then. Open it up somewhere else in the city and we go in, keep our eyes open."

"Do you really think she can bring them into the fold?" Loki asked.

"I brought her in," Clint offered.

"Save me from optimism," Loki replied darkly. "It's going to get us all killed."

"Might as well die for something," Steve said. Was he _trying_ to rattle Loki?

The trickster didn't dignify that with a response. They had to carefully plan this out, or else they might lose Natasha forever.

***  
***


	3. Soul Machine

The Hand's Naginata House was in Kyoto. The Scorpions and Shinobis looked like any other ordinary student learning the ancient art, so passersby paid the building no mind. Tanto House was in Akita, and Katana House was in Kushiro. Naginata House had been chosen as the next target mostly because it had been closest to Nagoya, where the Dragon House had been. Kyoto had a thriving tourist business due to the historical sites and festivals, making it easy for them to blend in. It was also Golden Week, so the streets would be especially busy.

Natasha dyed her hair black to cover the telltale red tresses. Yelena and James didn't have that problem, and James actually let Natasha cut his hair. If anyone else attempted it, even Yelena, the sharp scissors might have been buried in their throat.

Students at Naginata House seemed to be rather undisciplined compared to thoe of Dragon House. Perhaps the mentality was different because melee fighters always had to be aware of their surroundings in order to manipulate it properly. The naginata allowed the Hand trainee to have greater reach in an attack, though a skilled fighter unafraid of blades could still defeat it. Natasha and Yelena had been trained to get in close and move quickly, two things the naginata would not excel at countering.

Trainees were allowed out of the House to participate in the festivals and visit shrines. This was done in shifts, so that the House would not be left unattended at any time. Defenses at the House would be minimal, which was another bonus to choosing Naginata House first.

Instead of going top down as they had at Dragon House, this time they went in on the ground floor. James was the sort of fighter that didn't care for subtlety, and would rather go in with guns blazing. Natasha assumed it was because that would draw attention away from her and Yelena, allowing them to move silently through the hallways and eliminate the trainees quickly. He was also a bit of a thrill seeker, and the adrenaline rush was huge when it was one fighter against the dozens flooding in.

The House was more sparsely populated than even they expected, so James didn't have to make as much of a boom as he planned. Natasha took the east side of the House, Yelena took the west side. She could use the naginata if she chose to, but preferred to use her own shorter knives. One of the weapons stands also had a few katanas, so she grabbed one and proceeded to go to work on the hapless students. Occasionally she could see a flash of Yelena at work across the courtyard, eyes alight and lips drawn back in a delighted grin. She had blood on her sleeves and splashed across her chest from the force of her swings. Natasha had similar splashes of blood on her body and even a bit of spray on her face. She spun out with the katana, hacking her way through cowering students as well as those brave enough to try to counter her attacks. James moved slowly and steadily, stalking through the courtyard to pick off any runners.

Afterward, they piled the bodies in the back of the House, and laid in wait for other students to return. Once they did, the massacre began anew.

None of the students knew what hit them.

Natasha had thought ahead regarding the clothes they would wear leaving the House; Yelena had thought they would simply raid the students' wardrobes. Cleansed of blood and in new clothing, the trio left and walked the streets of Kyoto along with the crowds. Carrying a katana wrapped in fabric made it look like a touristy kind of purchase. Natasha took them past the Shimogamo Shrine, but it was too soon for the Aoi Matsuri festival. The Aoi Matsuri festival took place annually over a two week period beginning on May 3 at the Shimogamo Shrine. On that date, the yabosame took place; this was mounted archery, and Natasha had once attended with Clint. He had been fascinated by the festival, and managed to recreate the stunts flawlessly later on. They were a day early for the festival, but Natasha had wanted something to remind her of those she left behind.

There was a shimmer in the bamboo behind the shrine. Immediately she recalled the dream with Loki and his offer to create a portal for her. He was definitely the type to ignore her wishes and create one anyway.

"Think we've seen enough of Kyoto?" she asked nonchalantly. "We'd better get a move on before the rest of the organization increases security."

"It would be nice to have a challenge," Yelena mused.

"Katanas or tantos?" James asked.

"I haven't practiced iaido in years," Yelena replied.

"Neither of us have done formal tantojutsu," Natasha said as she steered them away from the shrine. "But we're familiar with using mass produced tactical knives. So basically, do we go with the easy way first or last?"

Yelena giggled. "Last. Let's test our iaido skills."

James repressed a sigh. "Either way, I plan to use guns. I'll need more ammo."

"All right. I know someone in Tokyo," Natasha said. "It's on the way, anyway. We'll get everything we need there, then keep heading north."

Though Yelena looked at Natasha suspiciously, it was a reasonable enough plan on the surface. She kept silent, and Natasha refrained from looking back at where the possible portal may have been. It was difficult enough to push through the crowds, and her mind could be playing tricks on her. Her dreams were more vivid across the board, sometimes leading her to wake up thinking she was one of her cover identities. Then seeing Yelena and James would bring her back to herself, whatever that was, and she knew what the plan was supposed to be.

The Hand Soldiers wielding katanas would be a challenge. Attacking Hand Spies and Assassins would be rather like being back in the Red Room preparing for exams to enter the Elites. Even a heightened alert among the Hand would not stop them. Once the four major training houses were eliminated, the Hand would be devastated. They would likely rebuild; that organization had existed for hundreds of years, and even tactical strikes could only delay them for a time. But that time was crucial in reestablishing the Red Room as a viable player, especially since it was just the three of them.

Though, the three of them would just be folded into SHIELD. The Red Room would be useful as a cover, a way to play a long game with the remains of these organizations. SHIELD's name would remain intact, and the Red Room would be its darker mirror, the entity that worked in the shadows to eliminate destabilizing forces.

That was Natasha's plan, at least.

Yelena giggled when they got to Tokyo and met with Natasha's arms supplier. The wizened old man had eyed the blonde and James in distaste, not wanting to deal with new and unknown players. He was immune to Yelena's flirting, just as he had been immune to Natasha's when they first met. James wanted his entire stock, which he wasn't willing to part with.

It went south from there, even though Natasha tried to deescalate the situation. Yelena's flirting was possibly a clue, though it was often a default behavior when entering into negotiations. Their training in the Elites was to craft a Black Widow, and seduction could be just as dangerous a weapon as a blade, pistol or garrote. She had gotten hold of her knife and it made short work of the arms dealer. Natasha was irritated; it was hard to find reliable contacts off the grid that SHIELD didn't know about, and now one of her main ones had been reduced to nothing more than bloody meat on the floor. That didn't seem to bother Yelena at all. While James gathered everything up, Yelena touched the still warm blood with a fond smile on her face. "We'll paint the world red," she said, bringing her fingertips to her lips.

The blood was vivid red on her lips and teeth, her pink tongue snaking out to lick it up. "This is only the beginning, Natalia." She smiled wide, blood still on her teeth, and brought her fingers across her cheeks. "The world will bleed red and fall at our feet. We'll never be beholden to anyone ever again."

"You didn't have to kill him."

"I saw him reach for a gun," Yelena sing-songed. "And I didn't like how he looked at you. Or looked at me. And he wasn't going to give Winter what he wanted."

"It's called _negotiations,"_ Natasha returned, starting to get angry.

"The Red Room dictates, not negotiates."

"Wash your face," James told Yelena. "Civilians will be upset. You can't break cover like this."

Walk, don't run. Blend in. Nondescript clothing and features. Don't be too loud. Act as if.

"I can handle it," Yelena whined.

He raised his hand to strike her. "You've done enough damage, little girl. Let the grownups make the decisions from now on."

Though Yelena bristled, she remained silent. She pouted, but Natasha had no time for that. This wasn't a standard Red Room kill and she didn't want it to be recorded as such. Taking all the money and some pawnable jewelry as Yelena washed up, she wiped their prints.

"She made a big mistake," Natasha grumbled when James looked at her in curiosity. 

"We must go to Kushiro. We must complete the mission."

His voice was cold, almost robotic. Did Yelena's behavior trigger something in James?

If that was the case, what were her chances of turning them?

***

Loki, Clint, Steve and Sam stepped through Loki's portal. They had been in New York and now were in Kyoto. Sam laughed in amazement as he looked around the bamboo grove. "Holy shit, this is fantastic. No airport security to try to get through, either."

"You'll still get jet lag this way," Clint reminded him. "We're about eleven hours ahead of New York, so it'll be enough to knock you for a loop."

"That sounds like the voice of experience," Steve remarked.

"Because it is," Clint said with a slight nod. He looked around and began to smile. "I know where we are. Kyoto. There's an archery festival here."

"No wonder it's your favorite," Sam said with a grin.

"Tourist season," Steve commented. "No one would really notice us walking around while we look for Tash."

"Three people in a city of thousands plus tourists," Sam said, pointing out the obvious that no one wanted to discuss. "You think we'll be that lucky?"

"No, but we can try to trace her steps and predict where she'll be next," Clint responded with an audible sigh. "She can't work openly, not against those two."

"You think she wants to?" Sam asked, a bit uncertainly.

"Yeah, I think she does," Clint said, his voice brooking no argument.

"You seem to know her best," Loki said, finally saying something. His voice carried more than a trace of bitterness, though Clint tuned it out.

"You're the one that had the soul bond or whatever," Clint replied. He fixed Loki with a level stare, then swept his hand out to indicate the park. "Go find her, then. Figure out where she is, and we can haul them all back in before anyone else gets hurt."

Loki's mouth opened, then shut. He looked discomfited and looked around the packed area. "I can't tell where she is past that it's in this city somewhere. Our bond is severed, Hawk," he added, the bitter tone clearer to hear now. "That bitch Yelena erased it with the spells she had those casters craft before their death."

"Right. The overturned spa," Steve said, subtly stepping between the two.

"The _spá,"_ Loki corrected, subtly changing the pronunciation. "But it is different from the bond that we had." His mouth pinched, as if he bit into something sour. "It was created some time ago, and I suppose I didn't realize how much I relied on its presence."

Clint knew there was a deal between the two he hadn't wanted to talk about. Steve was vaguely aware of it as well, thanks to his monitoring of Loki as a female. Sam had no idea what Loki was alluding to but didn't care.

"So we do this the old fashioned way," Sam said, shrugging.

Thumbing in Steve's direction, Clint grinned. "There's the old fashioned."

Steve glowered at him a little. "Very funny. Fine, we're investigating rather than relying on magic. I think that's the better way, anyway. Rely too much on tools, and you miss something that you would've seen otherwise."

Loki pressed his lips together, still with the sour expression, but remained silent.

"Who's the competition that the Red Room had in these parts?" Sam asked. He was new to the Red Room dynamics, and had never been involved in international espionage. He knew that they were there because Yelena wanted to take apart The Hand, but not much else. Sam looked at Clint and Steve blankly. "The Hand, yeah, I know that part. But why Kyoto specifically? I mean, Clint, you were here before..."

"There was an informant that was part of the Hand," he allowed. "And there might still be something that way now, but I don't know for sure."

"So why don't we head on over to where you were before and see what we can find?" Sam asked.

Clint sighed a little. "The city's a little bit different now, but..."

The four men wandered through the crowds, moving through streets that had been part of Clint's memories of the place. Sam had such joy in the wandering that it lessened some of the tension. They could pretend to be tourists enjoying Golden Week as they ogled things, but there was no clear sign of where Natasha could be.

Until Clint received a phone call from Fury himself. "This is an unlisted phone number," Clint said mildly, though his knuckles were white as he gripped the phone.

"I got my eye on you, Agent Barton," Fury responded. "Don't think I don't know you're looking for Agent Romanoff."

"And?" he prompted, sounding as though he wasn't as tense as he actually was.

"Looks like there's some interest in Kyoto from our anti-terrorism friends."

"Kyoto," Clint echoed, standing at alert.

"Mass murder in a martial arts school. The alert called it a bloodbath."

"A martial arts school. Got it."

"I don't need a damn echo, Barton," Fury snapped. "Where are you?"'

"Looking into a lead," he replied, looking at the others with a tense expression. "Did they say where this school was? Or where other ones might be?"

"Other ones?" Fury asked, voice sharp. "You think there will be more like this?"

"They're the Hand, Director," Clint replied dryly. "They're literally ninjas. I _know_ there are several training houses, and Belova wants to eliminate all of the Red Room's competition. I don't see any point going where she'd been already if it was a bloodbath. It would be better to move ahead of them."

"Not without sparking an international incident."

"So unofficially, if someone was to go on vacation right now..."

Fury sighed, and Clint could hear the sound of a thick file folder dropping to a desk. Well, then. Bringing out archival data, were they? Clint wasn't sure if that was desperation or foresight.

"I hear that Akita and Hokkaido Prefectures are good to visit."

"I'm sure they are, but those are pretty big places to visit. Care to narrow it down?"

"Think of large cities on the water in those Prefectures. Tourist traps, I hear. People go missing, old fashioned weapons get used... Theirs is a different way."

"Hey. I fight with a stick and string. Old fashioned isn't necessarily a bad thing."

"Keep that in mind when they have a katana swinging at your head."

"I'm a ranged fighter. I'll warn the others about katana swings."

"Others?" Fury asked, concern in his voice.

"Yep. We'll let you know what we find."

He hung up and turned off his phone. "Let's move."

They followed his lead, and Loki was frowning at Clint. "You were most disrespectful to a superior officer," he commented.

"Yeah. I'm sure there will be some kind of disciplinary slip in my file for that and for each time I mouthed off in his office."

"Why would they permit such a thing, then?" he pressed.

"Because I know my shit," Clint replied bluntly. "If I was all attitude with nothing to back it up, you bet your ass I'd be on lockdown or busted down to level one shit jobs. But I know what I'm doing, I got the contacts I need to go to, and I can hold my own."

"So what's the plan?" Steve asked, getting them back on track before it could be derailed too far.

"He specifically mentioned the Akita and Hokkaido Prefectures, with cities on the water." The others finally noticed that he had been angling them through the crowds into the shopping districts. "Now, I'm no expert, but a map might give us a starting point. We're going to try to stay a step ahead of them, but it's going to be hard to do."

"Those are still going to be big places to search," Sam pointed out.

"Sure. But we have Mr. Portal over here," Clint replied, thumbing in Loki's direction. The god bristled, but didn't deny it. "The Hand isn't going to just give us confidential information about their schools, and they would hide them in plain sight. So we're at a double disadvantage there."

"But we're not relying on just that much," Steve guessed.

"Of course not," Clint replied, sounding insulted. "C'mon. Tash isn't the only one that can hide in plain sight, and I've got a few favors I can probably call in."

"We'll have to proceed quickly," Loki said darkly. "The Belova bitch is not stable, and they know where they are going."

"And coming from you, that's saying something," Sam said, a sober expression on his face.

Loki nodded, knowing that Sam didn't mean it in an insulting manner. That simply wasn't his way, though he would have bristled if Clint had said the same thing. "Exactly. She's unstable and desperate, and those are the most dangerous of all combatants to face."

The other three all looked at Loki and nodded in agreement.

They ducked into a bookstore, and Clint directed them to look at maps of northern Japan, specifically those prefectures. As they did, he went to the counter and asked for a specific employee in halting, badly accented Japanese. The woman at the counter smiled at the attempt, bowed a little and went into the back office. A slight woman with a streak of pink her hair emerged, wearing three earrings in her left ear, a nose ring and snake bites. Head to toe, she was in bright purple and black, straps and buckles all over. She brightened at the sight of Clint standing there, looking almost apologetic.

"Yo, this was not what I meant when I said look me up if you're in Kyoto," she said with a smile, only a slight accent to her English.

"Masumi, we're in trouble."

"When are you not?" Masumi teased.

"No, really. _We're in trouble."_ He gave her a meaningful look. "Think former trainers."

The smile was wiped right off of her face. _"Kuso,"_ she swore softly.

"Yeah, well... When in doubt, go to the best."

_"Nani hanashite no aho?"_ Masumi asked a little scornfully. At his helpless shrug, she pulled a face. _"Shinjimae."_

"Masumi, I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important, you know that..."

She retained the expression that he was an idiot. _"Shinde kudasai."_

"Masumi..." he wheedled.

"Clinton! The last time you asked me for help, I had my tattoos cut out of my skin!"

He winced. "Oh. Right. I kind of forgot about that..."

"And you have other hacker friends you can go to for help."

"Yeah, but they're back in New York. And we're here right now..."

Not wanting to see this go any farther, Loki strode forward to approach them. Masumi immediately fell into a combative stance the way Natasha would, sparking his nostalgia, and she had two small blades in her hands.

"You seem to have a way with words," Loki told Clint sardonically. He grinned wider at Clint's scowl. "Perhaps a less public venue?"

"No one else is in here but you fools," Masumi said, eyeing him warily. She flicked a glance in Clint's direction. _"Baka."_

Clint didn't disagree. "Which is why I need your help."

Masumi rolled her eyes. "What is it this time, then?"

"The Hand's training house locations up north."

_"Shinjimae!"_ she spat, eyes wide with fear. "I talk to you, everyone knows. The walls have ears, Clinton, especially in this country."

"Didn't you hear? There was a bloodbath at the dojo in this city."

She shook her head. "No, I don't believe you."

"Director Fury himself told me."

"Any survivors would be able to track me down." She shook her head and backed up a step, toward the counter. "I didn't escape them just to be killed by them."

"Give me a clue, Masumi," Clint pleaded.

"Not for you," she said, shaking her head. "Not for that. If you had a simple hacker job—"

"Do you know Natasha Romanoff?" Loki asked, interrupting. Masumi was startled by his abrupt tone, and frowned at him. "She's caught up in this, and we are trying to track her down."

"The Hand..."

_"Please,"_ Clint begged. "You're the only one I can think of who might be able to give me even a small clue where to go."

Masumi pressed her lips together, and looked as though she was about to refuse Clint again. Loki reached out and touched her arm, earning a wrathful look. He had no doubts that were he human, she would slice him apart with those blades in her hands and gut him. She very much responded to him the way Natasha did in the beginning. What was it about Clint that he attracted such strong warrior women?

"I have an idea," Loki said as pleasantly as he could. It was almost like the tones he used when verbally fencing during social occasions on Asgard. "I can craft a portal to another place, and all discussion would be in secret."

She scowled deeply at him, the blades steady in her hands. "There is nowhere far enough you can go to escape their reach."

"Another dimension?" Loki offered. He was rather impressed she didn't flinch at the mention of a portal, but he supposed that after the Battle of New York, magic and other realms didn't sound so surprising anymore.

That gave her pause. "Another dimension."

Loki nodded. "Tell your compatriots you're going to train me with your blades." He grinned at her, all sharp teeth and mania, and a part of him was thrilled at the slow blink of surprise that she had. "Then we may discuss. Time is of the essence."

"I recognize you," she said finally. "That smile is a dead giveaway."

"Then you know I can do what I say."

Masumi nodded slowly and relaxed her stance somewhat. She was still on alert, on the balls of her feet, ready to react if Loki crossed her in some way. "You owe me," she told Clint in a somewhat sour tone. _"Again."_

Clint nodded, appearing resigned. "Seems to be the way of it, isn't it?"

"If this goes wrong, I'm calling in the mark," Masumi said, heading toward the back room. "You will need to protect me, and there are few places their fingers won't reach."

"Understood." He nodded at Steve and Sam. "Those two are in on our search, too, by the way."

"Of course they are. They came in with you and are following your direction."

"Got me there," Clint allowed. He grinned at Loki's irritated expression as Masumi left them. "You have no idea what I'm doing, do you?"

Loki rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, but didn't respond. That pretty much meant _yes,_ and they both knew it.

"I need to give her something to save face. It's huge in this culture. Sound familiar?"

Now Loki really glowered at Clint, who laughed unapologetically. It was going to be a long road to finding Natasha. For her sake, Loki hoped he wouldn't wind up killing Clint.

***

Akita was the capital of the Akita Prefecture in northern Japan. Its main attractions, aside from the requisite festivals, were the mountains and hot springs. As the largest city in the prefecture, Akita was the local hub for travel, shopping and tourism. There was even a historical city nearby with samurai homes open to the public. People walking about carrying a tanto wouldn't be too remiss, then. The Hand certainly knew how to hide their students in plain sight. 

Natasha had heard the best local sake in all of Japan was in Akita, and saying that aloud triggered a memory for James. "The Prefectural Goods Shop in the basement of the Atorion Concert Hall usually has sales and sometimes free samples," he said, blinking as the memory swam to the surface of his mind. His accent was flawless; she wondered when he had learned the language, given that Sergeant Barnes had never fought in Japan in World War II. Perhaps once Hydra got their hands on him, but at the very least before Department X got him; they wouldn't have wasted resources teaching him the local language. He wasn't meant to be a fine instrument of destruction, after all. No need to blend in prior to the kill.

"The brands are codes," Yelena said suddenly, features going somewhat slack. A trigger memory, then. Natasha was alert as Yelena ran through a few of them, memorizing what the brands meant to the agents the Red Room had used in the past.

"So the Red Room _did_ work with the Hand," Natasha guessed.

"I remember Myung," Yelena replied, slack features suddenly hardening with anger. "I remember what she did as part of training, what codes she drilled into us. I remember when they turned us loose in Tokyo."

"You've been there before," Natasha said without inflection. Her behavior in Tokyo suddenly made far more sense. Her supplier hadn't necessarily triggered that odd reaction, but it had been the city itself.

"Seduce and kill. You know how Madame likes to see her girls in action," Yelena said, bitterness lacing her voice.

Natasha slid her hand along Yelena's arm until she could cup the back of her neck. "I need you here with me, Yelena. We've got to do this together. They'll bleed us out if you can't stay on target here."

Her smile was a deadly flash of teeth. "I know how to use the tanto. I will take them all down and burn it to the ground."

The words were too familiar; Natasha had told Yelena that before burning down the Red Room with their former captors and handlers inside. It sent a chill down her spine, but she didn't outwardly react to it. She drew Yelena in for a kiss and pulled James closer to her. "We stick together, no matter what."

"Let's see if they use the old codes," James remarked. "We can use it against them, thin out the crowds of students and ensure we survive the kill."

There. That was an improvement already; the Winter Soldier never had to worry about survival, because he didn't matter as much as the mission. She didn't have to worry about his state of mind, then. Parts of himself were coming to the fore, bits and pieces she knew and bits and pieces that she didn't.

Yelena was the problem. Then again, Yelena had always been the problem.

The Hand's Tanto House was in the western part of Akita City, which had some of its sports centers and its Prefectural Motor Vehicles Testing Center. A Tanto House would fit right in, and with Golden Week done, the trio likely would have an easier time getting in and out of the area.

Of course, that also meant fewer civilians that would serve as cover for their entry.

In addition to floors above ground, there were three levels below ground. The Hand kept their training rooms below ground, with some residences tucked into the offices on upper floors. There was a legal instruction area that was a front on the ground floor, and the hidden entrance to the training rooms below. "Collateral damage," Natasha sighed once she realized it.

"No one is innocent here," Yelena hissed in response.

"We can't let James blow up the front entrance," she insisted.

James shrugged, not insulted in the slightest. "You could be our entry into the building, then I'll take apart the hidden doorways."

"A trench coat to hide the body armor and guns will be noticeable," Natasha pointed out. The early May weather wasn't cool enough to justify a long coat.

"You really think I care about that?"

Yelena laughed as Natasha conceded the point. "We're letting people know the Red Room is back. We're letting the Hand know they can't fuck with us. Let it be a warning. Let them try to prepare. We'll still kill them all. We're not planning on letting any of them live, you know. No need to be careful."

Natasha leaned back in her seat and let her mind drift over her mental map of Akita. "We should disable police first, then. Let them worry about their own, and we can be farther into the training area before they arrive."

"Fewer distractions," James agreed.

Entering the school was relatively effortless. Natasha and Yelena entered the front martial arts studio posing as JET program participants looking to learn a new skill. As soon as they were in the back room to speak with the manager, they overpowered him and knocked him out. Once he was bound and gagged, they let James in through the back door. Together, they looked for the entranceway to the lower levels, but it proved to be fairly cleverly hidden.

"Fuck it," James said finally in frustration. He pointed his machine gun at the floor. "It should be somewhere around here, right?"

"Yes," Yelena replied. "The student I had gotten the information from had said it was a trapdoor, easy to find."

"Obviously it isn't," James growled.

"What? When did you question that student?" Natasha asked.

"When we took out Dragon House."

Natasha blew out a breath. "It could be faulty. Their dying men know how to tell convincing lies. It's one of our first lessons, Lena."

Yelena flushed in anger and shame. "I know what I'm doing."

"You also shut down afterward. Your skills are a little suspect right now."

Giving Natasha a shove, Yelena bared her teeth. "I will cut you for that."

"Not now," James hissed. "I'm blowing open the wall. That's the most common place to hide the entrance point."

Before Natasha could even protest, he swung the machine gun up to shoot at the wall. Yelena grinned as the large caliber bullets shredded the drywall, and she followed closely when James kicked the wall open. There was a hallway behind it, with covered light bulbs on the wall. Yelena shot Natasha a triumphant look, then plunged into the tunnel to look for the stairs down.

It was the middle of the day, and the rooms were all occupied with students of varying degrees of skill. The first level held the trainees; any difficulty detected on this floor, and the students with better skill would come up from the lower levels. The way to defeat them all without getting killed or bled out would be to create a bottleneck, forcing the better skilled tanto users to come out one or two at a time. Of course the architect for the Tanto House had thought of that, so most of the rooms had open plans and flimsy walls in between them. There was no easily defensible area. They would have to go all in and be careful.

Natasha missed her nanomesh armor. The element of surprise only carried them through the first two rooms. Shouts and thuds from falling bodies couldn't be masked as training exercises any longer, and by the fourth room the more skilled students were coming through the flimsy walls. James had been saving his guns for when the skilled students arrived, and there was a grim joy in his expression as he mowed down the incoming students. Yelena moved forward, beyond Natasha's reach, laughing as she grabbed the tantos of fallen victims. It didn't matter to her that they sliced at her arms or stomach, that her left side was exposed. Natasha had a tanto in each of her hands and pistols strapped to her thighs and back, as well as extra magazines. She didn't have her Widow's bites or electronic discs, no garrote or grappling hooks. Not that she needed them to kill when her entire body was a weapon, but having those would be nice to even the odds.

Left to her own devices, Natasha focused on the three students in front of her. She moved sinuously, elements of ballet and gymnastics in her steps. There was focus for her, not a manic glee, and she dodged blows from tantos as best as she could while delivering death blows of her own. She ran up and threw herself at a taller student, the momentum from her body throwing him to the ground. Her arms flew out from her sides, her own tanto blades swinging wide and slitting throats as she took the student to the ground. Once her knees hit the floor, she scissored her blades across his throat and looked up, her hair swinging up and out of her face. More students were flooding in. It would still be a massacre, but it would be hard fought and they were going to need time to heal up afterward.

Pushing aside the sting of aching muscles and sliced skin, she kicked up and out of her crouched position, flipping up and into a standing position. She fought two students at once now, one male and one female. The male seemed to be more vicious, maybe angry over getting kicked in the ribs on her way to standing. She spun in a pirouette, parrying one of his blades and then slicing through his abdomen with her other. That left her back undefended, and the female took full advantage of that. The tanto she carried scored over her entire back. Twitching away from the blade, she continued her spin and caught the girl's arm. Natasha severed several tendons and muscle groups with one blade, then thrust her other into her throat. She kicked the female student away as she choked and drowned in her own blood, and Natasha kept moving.

More students, more knives, more slices, more kicks and punches and pirouettes. There was the staccato punctuation of James' bullets and the manic laughter from Yelena as counterpoint to grunts and the slap of skin on cement as bodies fell. She wanted to fall herself; Hel's gift meant that she wouldn't die right away, but she ached so badly and needed rest to fully recover. But if she fell the students would converge and kill her. And she couldn't die, not here, not like this. She had to get James and Yelena back to SHIELD. She had to help them undo the programming in their minds, had to get them free of the last chains the Red Room had bound them with. She had to do this, she couldn't afford to fail.

Slice, slice, slice. Natasha moved without thinking, without planning. There was nothing to gain from this encounter other than escaping with their lives. Yelena wanted the Hand gone, but it was an impossible task. It was going to kill them to do it on their own.

Covered in blood and gore, Natasha finally stood still. The tantos fell from her hands to clatter onto the floor next to her. She hadn't even gone for the guns strapped to her thighs. There simply hadn't been time to do that, not when they rushed at her all at once and without the easy choreography of martial arts movies.

Surrounded by the dead and dying, Natasha found Yelena propped up against a wall and James clenching and unclenching his fingers to test mobility in his metal arm.

"For the record, Lena," she rasped, getting the blonde's attention. "Your idea of a good time _sucks._ This is definitely not a party."

Yelena laughed and slid down the wall, a smear of blood from her arm across it. "We'll have a better time at the next house, I promise."

"Fuck that. We're lucky we survived," Natasha snapped.

Her smile was all sharp teeth, a crazed glaze to her eyes. "No, not luck. We're better than they are, and we'll destroy their other house."

"There's always going to be someone else—"

"Black Spectre's next," James said evenly, stepping carelessly through the dead bodies to get to Natasha's side. "They still need to be destroyed."

Natasha blew out a breath. "Okay, fine. They need to be stopped, and no one could get a handle on them or how to do it legally."

Yelena snorted. "Laws. As if they matter to us."

"They're useful."

James ran a hand down Natasha's back, keeping her from saying any more. "We should go. Tend our wounds. It'll be a fight to get out of here, and we're too conspicuous."

Time to wash off the blood and eliminate their torn and sliced clothing. Then it was escaping Akita and heading over to Katana House in Kushiro. That would be no small feat, but they could do it. They were the Red Room.

There was no room for failure. Failure led to death.

***  
***


	4. Missed Chances

Masumi had admired the weapons collected in one of Loki's hideaways, giving some of the blades longing glances. It had given him a measure of pride, and he even gifted her with one of his small knives for assisting them. She had refused to draw maps for the group, but did point out on Sam's map where the Hand had hidden their training houses in Akita and Kushiro. "They are large enough for tourists to cover their tracks, close enough to shipping lanes to hide the bodies and the contracts they take," she told them as she pocketed the knife.

"How did you get away from the Hand?" Steve asked before Loki opened a portal to let Masumi return to the bookstore in Kyoto.

She smiled thinly. "I killed the five instructors they sent to me. After some discussion, they decided I was more trouble than I was worth and canceled my father's debts to them. I continue to be monitored, should I betray them."

"Will they believe you've been training someone in knife work?"

At that point, her smile widened and she seemed extraordinarily proud. "They would have had me become one of their instructors, so yes, it is credible."

"Why did you kill the instructors?" Sam asked curiously, forestalling her return.

"They saw me as property. I disagreed."

"Good enough reason for me," Sam said, nodding thoughtfully. "Stay safe when you get back home, okay? Thanks for helping us."

"I help Natasha," she said with a smile. She gave Clint a mocking glare, indicating that the prior name calling had been out of fear, not genuine dislike. "Those two have been most helpful, and we have an understanding of sorts when they are in Japan."

"Mostly, stay out of your backyard," Clint joked.

"Precisely." She bowed at Loki. "If you can return me home now?"

Once Masumi was back in Kyoto, the four men remained in Loki's hideaway for a time. "I can reinsert us back into the flow of time at any particular moment we wish," Loki explained, sitting down at his desk. The bookshelves were empty and it was bare, but the furs on the floor remained. He waved a hand and converted them into couches for the others. "So this gives us some time to find Natasha, the Solider and the bitch."

"Could you not call her that all the time?" Sam asked, annoyed.

Steve sat down and nodded in agreement. "It's not helping the matter, especially if she's brought in to work with SHIELD."

Loki huffed and appeared irritated as he rolled his eyes. "Would you prefer twatwaffle? You wouldn't understand if I called her a skain's tail, curpin or skroyle."

"How about you don't dehumanize her at all?" Steve offered.

"I don't want her to be human!" Loki shouted, leaning forward in his chair, angry enough that spittle flew from his lips. "I want her gone, I want her dead, _I want Natasha back!"_

There was a collective sigh in response. "You don't get to pick and choose her missions, you know," Steve pointed out. "Even if she's back, she still works for SHIELD."

Slouching further in his seat, Loki nodded. "I know. But I can attempt to provide some purpose or service to assist her. Otherwise, there is little enough on this realm for me, and I am exiled here for the next thousand of your years."

"Then come up with something of your own to do," Sam told him firmly. "No point in whining about it. This is what happened, there's shit to do. So let's get to it."

"That being said," Clint said, interrupting what Loki might have retorted, "we need to figure out where to go, Akita or Kushiro. It doesn't look like there's a particular order to the attacks, but the last two were pretty close together."

"We could split up," Steve offered. "Get into both cities at the same, catch up to them before they get too far."

"The ladies could look like just about anything, and the Winter Soldier probably isn't flashing his metal arm at everyone," Clint said. He got up from his transfigured seat and started to pace as he spoke. "So we have to think smart, like how they would."

Loki blinked and looked as though he had just had an epiphany of sorts. "Think as they do, and predict their movements."

"Well, yeah. That's the point behind profiling," Clint told him.

"Natasha did as much on Asgard," Loki said, his prior hate for Yelena fading away a little. "I can understand how she thinks. I behave as she does, do I not?"

"If you're talking about Yelena, then yes."

Loki gave Clint a sour look. "I think we have already established many times I do not think as Natasha does." He turned and focused on Sam and Steve, who he got along better with. "That creature adores Natasha and would not wish to share her company. The Winter Soldier is likely an anomaly based on past work together. But she is as much a victim as an aggressor, is she not? Killing the Sarkissians and the mages was to eliminate any competition for Natasha's affections and keep her safe from their interference. The doctor in California assaulted women and mental patients under his care. He might have cared for that creature in Hydra's name. She certainly took apart his office with undue fervor."

"Okay, you have a point," Sam said slowly, mulling over Loki's words. "The way that you've described her doesn't sound like she's wrapped too tight."

"So where would you go if you're that upset?"

"We know she wants to have her Red Room rise to supremacy. She is going to try to decimate all potential rivals," Loki began slowly. His gaze was turned inward, staring off in a direction the other men weren't standing in, but clearly not seeing what was in front of him on the opposite wall. "But start with the ones that hurt her. Start with the ones that hurt Natasha. Destroy the opposition, destroy everything that might take the pain away. Get rid of it, then maybe there will be peace."

"We know hardly anything about Yelena Belova, though," Steve told him.

"She was barely even mentioned in SHIELD files," Clint agreed.

"There is always someone who knows something." Loki stood, pulling himself up to his full height. "Even if we have to talk to the dead to do it."

Sam's eyebrows practically shot up to his hairline while Clint and Steve looked at each other uncertainly. "This can't be a good thing," Sam said into the resulting silence.

"Hardly a task I would find thrilling," Loki said dryly, "but there will be a fair number in Helheim who would know Yelena's history. After all, Natasha sent the original Red Room to Hel. They can be compelled to tell us what they know. The dead follow very strict rules of conduct while in Helheim."

"O-kay," Sam drawled, standing and clapping his hands together. "And on that very creepy-ass note, I vote that we track them down _now_ and avoid this talking to the dead thing."

"Agreed," Steve said. "I think the dead should rest in peace."

Loki's grin was disturbing. "They usually don't, but I appreciate the sentiment."

"Now you're doing that on purpose," Sam accused, pointing at Loki. "Cut that shit out. I'm sure Yelena and the Winter Soldier are going to be creepy enough as it is." He looked over at Steve with an apologetic expression. "No offense, Steve. But we don't know how far gone he is. He might not be someone that we can save, no matter what Natasha wants to do."

Steve set his jaw and stood. "But we're going to try. We won't give up on him."

"Admirable sentiment," Loki replied.

"We don't know where they're going, Akita or Kushiro. So it's best that we split up," Steve said, taking the lead. "Sam and Loki should pair off, and I'll go with Clint."

"Why that particular plan?" Loki asked, curious.

"'Cause I don't mind dealing with you," Sam replied flatly before Steve or Clint could. "And this gets us also paired off with one melee and one ranged fighter." He shrugged a little. "Though it's harder for me to do range work if I don't have my wings."

"Shall I open a portal to New York?" Loki offered.

"Nah, I'm good," Sam replied, shaking his head. "These guys are going to want to go under the radar, and the wings get flashy."

Clint turned his phone back on and nodded in Steve and Sam's direction. "We can coordinate, let the other team know what we find. We'll take Akita, you take on Kushiro."

As Loki opened the portals, Clint's phone immediately rang. He was startled, and glanced at the incoming number before answering it. "Zoe?"

"Damn, you're hard to get a hold of," she blurted.

"I may have turned off the phone in case the Director was pissed at me."

"Good game plan. He's authorized a task force to comb Japan."

"For Natasha, you mean?"

"For _threats,"_ Zoe clarified. "And there's a ping in Tokyo from last night. It would've flown right past us, except for one thing: Natasha left a thumbprint at some point in the place. The guy was an arms dealer, his place got ransacked and he was killed. Couple of stab wounds to the torso and a slice to the throat. Guns and ammo swiped, money and valuables that could be readily pawned are all missing," she continued, sounding as though she was reading highlights off of a computer screen for Clint.

"That doesn't sound like a Red Room issue," Clint replied with a frown.

"Like I said, it would've flown past my keyword searches if not for her thumbprint. No way to tell how long those things last, but my guess is that it's fairly recent. The rest of the place looked like it was wiped clean."

Clint blew out a breath. "Thanks, Zoe."

"You still owe me that T3, remember?"

"Stark's getting permits or whatever. I don't know, he's on the technical aspects of it. You can bug him about it."

"Sure you're not punking me on this?"

"Scout's honor," Clint promised.

"You weren't a scout!"

"How do you know?" he teased, grinning a little.

"It would've been in your file. And before you ask, yes, I hacked your file. Haven't been able to get past all the redacted bits, but yes, I got it."

"Bravo," Clint told her, meaning it. "Thanks a lot, Zoe. I'll be radio silent for a while, in case you try to call again."

"I don't wanna know, do I?"

"Better if you don't."

"You keep saying this, yet I keep wanting to be involved..." Zoe teased.

"That impulse for trouble is going to land you in it someday soon," Clint said, shaking his head.

"Yeah, maybe," Zoe acknowledged. "Better than pushing papers, though."

"If you say so. I never got to do that stuff. Anyway, I gotta go. Keep an eye out for anything else popping up, especially in northern Japan."

"Will do."

"And hey, can you start tracking any data on Yelena Belova? Odds are good that's going to be the link to getting Natasha out of her deep cover."

Zoe whistled appreciatively. "The other Black Widow the agents were talking about? I'll get right on it. You do have the best kind of trouble, Barton."

He found himself laughing in spite of himself. "Yeah, well, you get the safer bits of trouble."

Clint related the salient bits of the conversation once off the phone. "It doesn't change the game plan at all. Tokyo could've been on the way up. It _was_ right after the Kyoto attack, and the three of them would need to get supplies to take out the northern training houses."

"Then let's find them," Sam said with a nod. He shot Steve and Loki meaningful looks. "And then we'll get 'em back home."

***

Dragging their bloodied bodies out into Akita was dangerous and difficult. Natasha could feel the aggravating itching and burning feeling in her muscles and skin, and she wanted nothing more than to sleep for a day or two to recover. Yelena was deathly pale but the bleeding at least had stopped. She had always been called the pale little spider, but this was downright concerning now. James seemed emotionally shut down, ready to plow through the streets and kill whoever got in their way. "Watch over her," she commanded.

They went into hiding by stealing a van and driving away from the training house. Natasha stripped off her bloody clothing in one of the lower levels that had a locker room. A quick dousing in the shower got rid of the blood, and she briskly toweled herself off. A few of her scabs broke open again, but she couldn't afford to stop and do anything about it. She knew that time was of the essence, that authorities would likely come soon. Ransacking lockers netted overlarge jeans and a tight shirt that barely fit, but she could work with that. She also found a few wallets with yen and loose change, which was perfect.

By the time she snuck out of the building, Nadine Kopecky was as solid and real in her mind as her mission. Nadine was a student in the US, visiting Japan during Golden Week. Breathlessly, Nadine hailed a cab. "I got too excited before my visit," she chirped in halting Japanese. "I never made any reservations for the night. Is there a cheap hotel outside of town?"

"No luggage?" the cabbie asked, eyeing her chest discreetly.

"My friends are looking after my stuff. We were eating, and I got picked." She switched to English with a frown. "What's the phrase for 'drew the short straw'?" she asked in a musing tone.

The cabbie laughed. "Oh, I know English. Maybe better than your Japanese."

Nadine grinned and practically twinkled at the cabbie. "You do! I only took two semesters in college and watched lots of Cowboy Bebop and Trigun." She laughed good naturedly as the cabbie told her that wasn't a good way to learn the language. "Well, that's why I'm here. I wanted to visit, really learn the culture. I'm thinking of joining the JET program."

He nodded and started driving out of the city. Nadine noticed but didn't remark on a white van following a few car lengths behind them. The cabbie was only too proud of listing Akita's wonders and benefits for a tourist. "Should I stay to wait for you to return to your friends?"

"Heck no," she said with a laugh. "They get to come to me, now, and bring my luggage."

The cabbie continued to talk in a jovial way with her and wished her luck and happiness on her trip. After a generous tip over his objection, Nadine waved as he drove away and secured a single room. She did a quick check of its contents and access points, the Nadine personality melting away as she moved. When the brisk knock came at the door, Natasha was opening it. "We're good," she said quietly. "Start cleaning her up in the bathroom. I'm going to head out for more supplies," she told James. He caught her arm before she could head out the door. "Really. She looked bad, and I'm not sure we have enough gauze and bandages."

"She's able to fight if need be. I checked her over in the van," James informed her. His eyes searched hers, concerned. "You aren't regretting this, are you?"

It didn't matter if she did or not, the damage was done. Natasha pulled him in for a filthy kiss in answer to his question. "I never regret you, James. _Never._ But I'd rather be on the safe side, in case she can't."

"She can. I would know."

He would; for far too long, James had been nothing but an asset, called that or the American or the Winter Soldier. He would know what was lethal and what wasn't, what was of concern enough that Department X would have to send their scientists in for repair.

Natasha blew out a slow breath and secured the chain on the door. "And you? You did mostly shooting, but I saw you take out a few of the students with hand to hand." Her hands slipped down to his metal arm, fingers tracing the seams. "Is everything working as it should? Or do we need to find someone with engineering expertise to recalibrate anything?"

James shrugged, unconcerned about that. "I'm within acceptable parameters."

"James," she said, lips turning down unhappily. "Acceptable isn't the same as good."

"I still function. Yelena was harmed the most."

Thinking of how pale and weak she had seemed, Natasha nodded. "This isn't going as well as she wanted it to, James," she said softly. "We need to avoid the Katana House for now. They'll double or triple security, but we'll just have to factor that in. We can't go in now."

"She's not in a position to make that decision," James informed her. Natasha looked up at his expression, and it seemed to be curiously blank. Had he flashed back to a time after a wipe, where he didn't know her?

Just the thought of that was enough to make her heart break.

Pushing that aside, Natasha fell into the role of caretaker easily. Yelena was cleaned up in the tub, wrapped up in sheets and a blanket on the bed afterward. James had helped, hands gentle and expression distant, though he leaned into Natasha several times. Maybe he was caught in some kind of in between state, not quite her James and not quite the Winter Solider. Their minds were certainly messy, so it was a possibility.

"You rest. I'll take first watch," Natasha said quietly. He clearly wanted to protest, but she laid a hand on his arm and leaned in to kiss his lips. "I'll wake you if anything happens. But I want you rested and at full capacity. It's important to me, James. You need to take care of yourself."

"You're more important."

The Widows of the Elites had been valued more than he was, she remembered. Though they didn't have another Winter Soldier in Department X, he was considered by some to be the last resort. He was the cannon of the program, the Black Widows were the stilettos to slide between the ribs of the hapless victim selected by department heads. The Widows had to blend in, could not be seen as they did their work. The Winter Soldier sent an entirely different message when he was called in for missions.

Natasha caught his face in her hands and kissed him again. "You're important to me, James. You were always more important to me."

 _I love you,_ she was saying, and he understood. Something seemed to click for him, and his features softened.

"You were always more than just the mission. You understood why things had to happen, and it was always dangerous to be that clever."

She nodded, feeling emotions get caught in her throat. "We save each other, James. It's who we are, what we do. I'm feeling all right now, so I'll take first watch, okay? It's just the two of us to keep watch until Yelena's at 100%."

Mollified, James nodded and put together a nest of blankets and a pillow on the floor, leaving Yelena alone on the bed. Natasha sat on a chair and pulled her knees to her chest, watching the room and the unmoving curtains at the window. Their breathing was deep and even, lulling, and Natasha had to suppress the urge to cry. Yelena was worse off than Natasha had feared, she knew that. James had to know that. Her chemical cocktail that had come from AIM or Hydra scientists wasn't doing the job promised. Hospitals weren’t an option, so unless Yelena suddenly and drastically got better, odds were good that she would die. James had been subjected to some kind of super soldier variant when Zola had him, and Natasha had Hel's blessing.

Hel.

Natasha didn't know how to create a portal, and summoning her would likely be insulting and not get her anywhere. But how else—

"I understand you wished to speak with me," a ghostly whisper came from behind her.

Natasha startled badly and unfolded her creaky body, poised to defend herself if need be. Yes, she wanted a conversation with Hel, but didn't think she would get it.

But there was the Queen of Helheim herself standing inside a shimmering portal. Behind her was clearly a room in her palace, hundreds of sightless eyes on the distant faces of her seers casting an eerie atmosphere to an already creepy moment. Hel was in a slinky silver dress shot with black, her eyes silvered pools without any iris, her black hair loose and straight, making her deathly pallor even more striking.

"My seers," Hel said, her lips quirked, "assure me that this is a crossroads moment, and I will not like the outcome should I not appear."

She wanted to shoot her creepy-eyed seers a thankful glance, but instead rolled to her feet. "We are in trouble," Natasha said without preamble. "I think Yelena will die here."

"All things die," Hel murmured, stepping through the portal into the hotel room. It felt as though time was stopping around her, as if the very air was growing stale and still. "She will be mine, you know."

"I don't want it to be today," Natasha murmured.

"I don't hear you asking me to spare her."

"Do I have the right to?" Natasha asked, a hysterical thread of hope causing her heart to speed up. "I'd ask you if I'm allowed to."

Hel clucked in an almost maternal way and touched Natasha's arm. The touch kicked off the healing gift, and it _burned_ its way through her body. Natasha cried out, knees buckling. Hel caught her body, no change in her expression, as if she casually caught mortals as they fell every day. She smiled, though her smile was chilling rather than comforting. "Ask me, Natasha. Ask me what you wish for."

Tears welled in her eyes unbidden. "Heal them. But especially Yelena. It'll break me if she dies, I know it will. I can't do this. I can't be strong for them and carry them and keep them safe. I'm not enough, but I keep hoping I will be..."

"You're mine, Natasha," Hel said, her voice a low whispering caress. "I will come if you call to me, if I can."

"But I don't have the right to ask you for anything. I have nothing to give you."

"True," Hel replied. "You know I deal with souls, and yours is not your own."

Natasha flinched, but nodded. "I have nothing to offer you."

"And you never ask me for anything for yourself," Hel continued as if Natasha hadn't spoken.

 _I don't deserve it,_ Natasha nearly said aloud, but didn't.

Hel cradled her close as if she had. "You give me many souls, Natasha, you know this."

"I have to make up for—"

"Yes, yes," Hel began, a little irritated. Natasha let her lips clamp shut. "Your ledger, your guilt, your concept that you are not worthy, that redemption is not really an option for you, no matter how hard you work for it." She placed a finger over Natasha's lips before she could protest. "I know this about you, Natasha. You deserve a great many things, not the least of which is someone better for you than Loki. He certainly does not deserve you."

"Well, I know _that,"_ Natasha replied without thinking, rolling her eyes.

Hel grinned at her, not affronted in the slightest. "Your crimes and the deaths by your hand when young can't be laid at your feet. You were a child and not in control of your own mind." She stroked Natasha's cheek tenderly, the way her forgotten mother likely had done when she was a little girl. "And even as an adult, you send me souls. But these are not indiscriminate deaths."

"They are now."

Laughing and shaking her head, Hel disagreed. "Their souls are not pure. There are no true warriors among those trainees you gave me." She leaned in close and pressed her lips to Natasha's forehead. "You'll give me more souls, Natasha. I told you this. I am not troubled by it, and you should not be either. Death comes for us all. It is a natural part of life."

"Some worship you," Natasha said, thinking of Thanos.

"It doesn't mean they _deserve_ me," Hel replied, grinning, and for a crazy moment Natasha could almost see her as a friend and confidante.

"I haven't done enough for them," Natasha said, turning to indicate Yelena and James. "I wasn't fast enough, wasn't good enough—"

"Enough." Though Hel's voice was soft, Natasha could hear the undercurrent of power. "You can want things, Natasha. You can need. You can love and feel and react. You deserve such things."

She could feel tears in her eyes, even though she kept them closed. What a failure to the program she was. If this had happened when she was in the Elites, they would have whipped her for such weakness. She would have deserved it.

Hel wrapped her arms around Natasha when she couldn't speak. "I see now why my seers thought this a crossroads." She clutched Hel tightly and hiccupped, trying to keep from sobbing as desperately as she wanted to. No, she had to swallow down her pain and fears, internalize them, hide them away. She had to keep moving, had to go from one thing to the next to the next to the next... Natasha couldn't stop, couldn't indulge in such petty mundane things. She was the Black Widow. She was a warrior. She had to bring Yelena and James back to SHIELD, had to keep them safe. She had already failed them once.

"I will fix them this time, Natasha. You ask so sweetly, and you ask for nothing for yourself. I think you need to decide what it is that _you_ want."

"Can't I have them?" Natasha asked as she pulled back to look the goddess in the eye, and cringed to hear the plaintive note in her voice. At Hel's arch look, she pushed her emotions aside again. "Yelena and James. I want them. Together, not being hunted, not being tortured, no one trying to erase our memories. That's what I want. Can't I have this one thing?"

Something soft and pained was in her expression as she let her hands rest on Natasha's shoulders, but Hel didn't say anything for a long time.

"What is it?" Natasha finally asked.

"What if you had to choose? What if you could only have one?"

Hel's hands on her shoulders kept her in place when she wanted to recoil. "I can't," Natasha finally said. "I can't make this choice."

"But if you had to," Hel pressed.

Natasha ripped herself away, could feel the threads of magic inside her chest snap. _"I can't,"_ she gasped. Her equilibrium was shattered. "I can't make this choice," she repeated, shaking her head. "I can't, I can't. Please don't make me."

Stooping down, Hel rested her arms on her knees and looked at Natasha mournfully. "Don't curse my name when I choose for you, Natasha. In this, you cannot have what you want. The threads are too tangled, the seers know how unstable things will be if some of the threads are not severed cleanly. It must be done, Natasha. I cannot have disorder and unrest in the realms."

"I've sent you souls," she gasped, eyes shining with unshed tears.

"Yes, you have. And you are a favorite. This means I came to you, and I talk with you when you come to me. But all things have limits. All things must come to an end. Even you someday, as much as I like you." There was infinite patience and kindness in her tone, so different from the amused and indifferent demeanor she had taken when Natasha wanted to interview the dead of Asgard. But then, maybe the difference was that she had gone to Hel with Sif via one of Frigga's portals, and Hel had to maintain a more aloof demeanor with them.

Hel brushed the black strands of hair away from Natasha's face. "There's not much time, Natasha. Enjoy the time you have left before I come again."

Before Natasha could ask what she meant by that, the room exploded in a flash of bright white light, blinding her. When she could see again, Hel was gone, the portal was gone, and both Yelena and James slept on peacefully.

There were no marks on either of them, no indication that they had gone through terrible battles and wounds from the Hand trainees.

 _Enjoy the time you have left,_ Hel had said. Oh yes, she fully intended to.

***

"I told you I would heal," Yelena purred, sliding a hand along Natasha's arm. The smile on her face was seductive and confident. That was easy, given how quickly she had healed after being at death's door. At Hel's door.

"Lena, we were foolish to do that," Natasha murmured, leaning into her touch. James was in the bathroom washing up for bed. "You could have died."

"But I didn't. _We_ didn't."

"But you could have. You _could have,_ and what would I do without you?"

She had said this before. They had been sitting crosslegged on a bed, worrying about being in the Elites, seeing the way it carved them up and was starting to hollow them out. Training was difficult, the girls sometimes died. Or wished they had died.

As before, Yelena gave her an impish grin and reached over to tug on a lock of her hair. It was black now, red then, or perhaps blonde? Natasha couldn't remember now, not exactly, these details blurring together like shifting grains of sand. That didn't matter when Yelena kissed her, mouth hot and open and her hands tangled in her hair. "I want to taste you," Yelena growled against her mouth.

"I was going to say that."

Echoes of the past blurred together with the present as Yelena laughed delightedly. "Then we'll taste each other at the same time," Yelena told her, pushing at the loose shirt Natasha had put on. "It won't be the first time, and certainly not the last."

Yelena was beneath her, licking up between her spread legs. Wait. Natasha lost some time there, lost how they both were naked and spread across the bed, Yelena's wet slit under her mouth and tongue. There was James, leaning against the doorjamb to the bathroom, watching them, face impassive but all the expression in his eyes. It wasn't Yelena that he wanted but Natasha, always Natasha, his precious Natalia, the ballerina that simply wouldn't die.

Natasha had her hands holding Yelena's folds open, her tongue inside her slit and the scent of her in her nostrils, overwhelming her. Then there was Yelena's mouth on her, teasing her just the way that Natasha liked, just like always, since they were girls together huddled in the dark. Time slipped sideways, shattered when she did, coming with a groan. She shivered, then even more when James' metal hand came to rest at the base of her spine. "I'll let you fuck her with me," Yelena purred, magnanimous with victory.

Rustling clothes, so much more subdued than her usual raucous ripping off of clothes. Was this really James? Was this her Winter Soldier?

But yes, that was his cock sliding into her, that was his hand against her bare back, that was his touch on her hip to keep her steady. Yelena grasped her from below, shimmying a bit so she could lick at Natasha's clit as James slid into her, in and out, a sinuous flow of movement that caused pleasure to pool low between her legs and heat the base of her spine. She buried her face between Yelena's legs, let herself be pinned between the two of them. They held her, kept her steady, held her traitorous heart in their hands.

Their handlers in the Red Room would be so angry, would take it out on them. Winter would freeze again, Yelena would be whipped or beaten, Natasha would be caned. They would all be wiped clean, starting over as _tabulae rasa._

No, wait. The Red Room was gone. There was no Red Room.

They were the Red Room.

No, it wasn't James inside her, Yelena beneath her. She was blindfolded, bound and pinned by magic, Loki showing off his mastery over her. This was what he needed, after all. And if she got a little something out of it, why not? She sacrificed so much, why not get some pleasure out of it? Why not be loved and cherished and needed? Couldn't she need something, too?

No, the Red Room would be so angry with that. Their operatives couldn't want or love or need, they couldn't be more than the dolls the Red Room wanted to play with. Marionettes without strings weren't safe. They were dangerous.

Hadn't Natasha proved as much when she burned them down?

She wanted to open her eyes, turn toward Loki and tell him he could do better. There were no magic fingers plucking at her nipples, nothing holding her tight and still. Just the hands at her hips, the cock inside her, the lips and tongue at her clit. Just sensation, pure pleasure, feeling herself fly fast and free for just a little bit.

James grunted as he came, a strangled groan he didn't want anyone to hear. That shocked her out of her fog. Loki wasn't here. He wasn't fucking her, James was. Yelena was. And then she came herself, shivering and whimpering, pushed down against Yelena's wet center, her gentle little Yelena who was begging her to finish, don't tease her Natalia, so cruel, so wanton, _please, please, please..._

But when she lay down on the bed between them, James' arm slung across her hip and Yelena pressed against her front, Natasha couldn't help but think of Loki. This was worse than Asgard and fantasizing about Loki bringing her off. Then, it was frustration and anger and wanting to get off to clear her head. Natasha refused to think it was anything more than that. This was worse, because she was in bed with James and Yelena, she loved them, God help her, she _loved_ them, yet Loki wasn't too far from her mind. What was he doing? What would he have done with her body had she presented herself to him?

He would have bent her over the bed and fucked her from behind, his magic adding hands to cup her breasts, to fondle her ass, to finger her clit. It was cheating, but God, was it pleasurable and got her to screaming when she came. Or maybe he would lay her down on her back and take her that way, her legs up over his shoulders, his cock sliding in deep with every thrust. Or he would turn her slightly sideways, one leg thrown up against his chest and the other curled around his knees as he knelt. Then deep, deeper, deeper still, fucking into her as if his very life depended on it, as if she was the only thing keeping him sane.

She rode him on her days, or brought in the toys and her sultriest voice, the tricks and tools and skills she had learned the hard way, the glances from Starkovsky and his ilk telling her if she did a good enough job. There had been the myriad unwanted touches, the fingers and cocks and leers she had to endure, the denials swallowed down and buried. It didn't matter what she wanted, only what mattered to the mission.

Loki was only a mission, wasn't he? Wasn't he?

But he loved her, with all of his broken soul, and he would do anything for her. Loki put his life on the line for her, even when she didn't ask him to, even if she would never think to do such a thing. He wasn't innocent, not by a long shot, but she couldn't risk others if there was a better way. The better way tended to involve sacrificing herself far too often, though.

Couldn't she have this? Couldn't she have this one thing? Two, really...

Yelena snuffled in her sleep, a low hiss of pain. Her own memories slipped and slid, shattered and reformed. It was worse than Natasha's labyrinthine mind, full of traps and pitfalls, broken things lining the way into the empty heart of her. But this was Yelena, her Yelena, the wrecked girl she tried so hard to put back together. Natasha pulled her closer, and Yelena made a soft contented noise, snuggling closer into her. Because Natasha moved, James pulled her closer to him as well. He wouldn't let her go, and she didn't want him to.

They had to survive this. They had to. The Red Room couldn't win, they had to win.

No, wait, they were the Red Room now. So they had to win, they had to reforge the agency into something different, something better, something balanced.

The three of them were all that was left. They had to survive this. It would break Natasha's heart if they couldn't.

***

Clint and Steve arrived in Akita and felt dead on their feet. Still, they scoured the city looking for any indication of a martial arts training house that would come under attack. Steve looked for red hair, Clint looked for faces. He knew that it was only too easy to change hair color, and Natasha could look like anyone she wanted to if she put her mind to it.

When they saw the police milling about and caught word of "bodies" and "excessive blood" and "sprays of gunshots," it seemed to be signs of the trio at work.

 _Dammit, Natasha,_ Clint thought, standing still. _How can we help you if you don't let us do it?_ Though in her defense, it was possibly Yelena's doing. Yelena had been the one she was afraid of, after all.

"You think they were here," Steve said at his elbow.

"Yeah. I think that was them."

"Go over to that noodle shop," Steve said, voice firm. Clint followed his gaze and nodded. "Let me handle this, see if I can confirm it for you."

It was such a change in Steve's usual demeanor that Clint did just that. He was rattled enough by the thought that he missed Natasha _again,_ that she was still stuck with Yelena and the Winter Soldier, that she couldn't get free and—

Was that Steve playing up his Captain America "aw shucks, you caught me, yeah, that's me" smile for the Japanese police? That had to be it, he was signing autographs for one of the officers, even as the others admonished him for it. Eventually they were talking and almost joking with each other. He seemed to be trying out some Japanese, mangling the language enough to get the police laughing at him a little. He took it with a good natured smile, and they resumed in English. One of the officers said something that got Steve looking concerned, but there was something almost fake about the expression. That got the other officers to talking, until everyone was chiming in and Steve finally looked like his usual affable self again. After a photo opportunity with the officers, he waved at the officers and mimicked their bow to indicate respect. They appreciated that touch, and then went back to discussing their crime scene.

Clint looked past a cab driving past, a woman with black hair and dark clothing in the back talking animatedly with the cabbie. Steve was meandering his way over to the noodle shop where Clint was sitting. "Well?" he prompted.

"So," he began, sitting down across from Clint. "It was them."

"What just happened? What did I just see?"

"You saw me practicing what Natasha was trying to drill into me before she left for Asgard," Steve replied placidly. "You know how my usual thing is to start an attack tactic? Take out the obvious threats, put 'em down quick and hard, then get the hell out?"

"Works great in a fight."

"This isn't a fight. So I was using _her_ tactics. Come in like a dope, since everyone thinks I am anyhow, ask a couple questions, sound like a concerned citizen on vacation in their fine city." He broke off to order a bowl of udon and waited until the waitress walked away. "A lot of dead, yes. But it's not a usual thing, because the police themselves were compromised before this all had happened. They think it's some kind of organized crime syndicate."

"That's giving an awful lot away," Clint replied dubiously.

"Yes, but I'm Captain America. There's a huge following here, you know. All I had to do was offer to help, and then they had to save face and tell me that everyone in the building was dead. They know what's going on, they already have their suspects in custody. Nothing I can do but enjoy my vacation, make sure to take in the sights."

"You think you can trust that?"

"Nope. But you have your friend, and we have some names to start with." He pulled out his everpresent notebook and pen and sketched out the names of the officers involved. "We'll see what they file in the report. I'm sure your friend can pull something out of it, but we already know it's a positive hit."

Clint swore under his breath and looked away as Steve's huge udon bowl arrived. He pulled out his phone and dialed Sam. "We just missed 'em in Akita," he said without preamble. "Keep an eye out, they're heading your way next."

As Steve slurped his soup, Clint sighed. So many missed opportunities, so much going wrong.

_Natasha, we're trying. You have to hang on and let us help you._

Useless to hope, but Clint couldn't help it. She was his best friend, and he wouldn't let her twist in the wind alone.

***  
***


	5. Deterioration

Kushiro was the largest city in Eastern Hokkaido, yet still fairly rural due to the marshland and forests in the area. Chunks of that had been designated wetland and parks, and an observatory was present to watch the cranes or take in the quiet beauty of the forest. Public transportation was sparse, so the trio had to steal a car in order to drive into the city. The Katana House in Kushiro was located downtown, nestled in between buildings that contained the bars and clubs of the local nightlife scene. The noise and constant flow of people likely helped to hide its presence from locals and tourists alike.

James drove the car they had acquired after ditching the van, and it would be soon time to get rid of this car as well. It would be easier to find a car, but there was also increased police presence. Natasha still wanted to limit whatever violence and death that she could, Yelena ignored the possibility of innocents caught in the crossfire. "There are no innocents," she scoffed. For a moment, Natasha thought of Hel, of Helheim and the vast empty wastes just waiting to be filled with souls. "We're doing the world a favor," Yelena continued. "Remember that."

"There are people in this city not connected to the Hand, people they victimize. _Those_ are the ones I don't want to hurt."

"We won't," James announced from the driver's seat, effectively forestalling an argument. "We need to do reconnaissance anyway. The Hand likely will have enlarged their ranks to make the perimeter checks more frequent. They don't know who we are or how many of us there are."

Natasha looked at Yelena, knowing she should have died. "We have to do this right."

"I know how to play the game, Natalia," Yelena huffed. She turned to look at the marshes as they drove into the city proper. "I haven't forgotten. Some things you never forget."

No, some things you didn't. You couldn't.

Another hotel room, another personality, another round of faked smiles with a fistful of stolen yen to pay for it all. Dinner was sushi and tempura; no one wanted to try whale meat, even if it was supposed to be a local delicacy. The three of them stumbled out of the restaurant, pretending to be drunk off sake and plum wine, and that was enough to see the outer perimeter go into high alert. Yelena laughed, high and shrill as she put an arm around Natasha, who then stumbled as if turning an ankle. Ah, archers as well. Just as accurate as a rifle but far more silent, one of the things that drew Clint to its continued use.

Just thinking of Clint made Natasha's gut tighten. How upset with her was he? How worried about her was he? Had he gotten her clues at all? Clint had various contacts around the world, both in and out of SHIELD. He was likely trying to track her down, might even guess that she still wanted to bring in Yelena and James, even if she had to sacrifice herself to do it. He would absolutely know what the reference to Drakov's daughter meant, would keep the other Avengers and Loki from doing something stupid.

But what would keep _her_ from doing something stupid in trying to save Yelena and James from themselves? There was only so much she could plan for, only so much she could do on her own.

"I see them," James said _sotto voce._ "If I use a sniper rifle while you two go in..."

"We should get some kind of armor," Natasha replied as she straightened. They strolled past the outer perimeter and watched the guards relax. "Katanas," she reminded Yelena. "Longer reach than tantos, and those fucked us up pretty badly."

Yelena tried to deny that but finally sighed. "Fine, fine. We can get something if that will make you happy."

Of course there were no suppliers in the city. They would have to travel elsewhere and then back again. "That might cause them to relax their guard," Natasha began that night, back in their hotel room. "Or the time might allow them to recruit more people."

"Fuck," Yelena swore viciously. "This is stupid. We should rush in, slaughter them all."

"We can't do that, not with the ammo we have left and the two of us with blades."

"Then we don't do blades and sniper rifles," James said slowly. "We make them come to us."

Natasha closed her eyes as Yelena laughed. "Grenades. Fire."

"I love it," Yelena chortled. "Let's watch them all _burn."_

"How are we going to contain it?"

"Who cares?" Yelena asked, shrugging. "That doesn't matter."

"We want our reputation to be one of precision," Natasha told her, yanking her close and holding her tightly, Yelena's hair caught in her fist at the nape of her neck. "Not just destruction, but precise destruction. That we can be trusted to do such things, that only the target dies. No one will want to hire someone that razes an entire city to the ground to take out one target."

Yelena grinned in response to the rough handling. "Are you going to teach me a lesson, Natalia?" she purred, her grin a mixture of desire and amusement. She cupped one of Natasha's breasts in her hand and laughed when Natasha used her other hand to smack it away. "Tell me I'm a bad girl, Natalia. Tell me how you'll punish me. Tell me how you'll fuck me by the light of the fire that burns them all to ashes."

James audibly sighed as he rose to his feet. "I'll try to find more grenades."

"Wait!" Natasha called, suddenly not wanting to be alone with Yelena. "Help me with her."

The look in the blonde's eyes was dangerous, giving Natasha an unsettled feeling. The pale little spider was deadly, and might turn on her someday. Still, Natasha couldn't choose death for her if Hel came. There had to be ways to eliminate triggers and past personae. Most of hers were gone, after all.

James held Yelena's wrists down on the bed, expression stoic. She laughingly thrashed around on the bed beneath Natasha, who was straddled above her waist. The laughter stopped when Natasha kissed James on the mouth, hot and open, her hands cupping his face. Now instead were wails that Natasha was supposed to love _her,_ wasn't supposed to care about anyone else, that she would be punished for failure and disloyalty.

That sounded too much like Starkovsky for comfort.

Breaking the kiss with James, Natasha leaned back far enough to slap Yelena's cheek. "You said you wanted to be punished, Yelena," she said sweetly. "What better punishment is there for you? Well, I suppose there's watching James and I without any chance of joining in."

Yelena snarled, lips drawn back from her teeth as though she was a feral animal. For a second, an impossible second, Natasha was _afraid._

"You do things _my way,"_ Natasha told her in her domme voice. Just as with Loki, Yelena seemed to grow still and calm. Another trigger?

"Natalia..."

"The only way you were able to take control was by drugging me," Natasha continued, curling her hand around Yelena's throat. "You know you can't survive alone. You need me. You need _us,_ and following your plan wasn't working."

"They need to die. They need to burn and burn and burn," Yelena sing-songed. "It will be beautiful, Natalia, so wonderful. Have you seen fire? Have you seen the beauty?"

"I've seen its damage," she replied coldly, remembering the fire that took her mother's life all those years ago. She remembered setting fire to the Red Room, setting all of this in motion years ago. She remembered the devastation on the streets of New York.

Nothing good in her life came from fire, did it?

Yelena only laughed, even when James shook her, even when Natasha told her to stop. The laughter was hysterical and crazed, then seemed to slide into hiccups and sobs. Finally, James let go of her hands and Natasha slid off of her. Yelena curled up on her side, sobbing like a small child. Cautiously, Natasha sat down beside her and stroked her hair. James watched carefully, as if waiting for her to lash out and strike.

Maybe she would turn like a viper, gnashing her teeth and biting into Natasha's throat. Maybe she would remain childlike, bury herself in Natasha's warmth for comfort. Maybe she would try to seduce her, cry out to be disciplined, spanked or paddled for provoking her this way, for being so _naughty,_ for wanting to belong. Or maybe she would change completely, her own dominating side rising to the surface to try to wrest control from Natasha.

Maybe, maybe, maybe, but all she did was cry.

Natasha curled around her, and gestured for James to do the same. Reluctantly, he did so, following her lead. Stroking her hair gently, she hummed the tune that had always calmed down Loki when he crashed out of subspace. "Hush, hush, my darling girl," she murmured when the sobs quieted. "I'm here. It's going to be all right."

"They need to die if we're going to be the best."

James laid a hand on her shoulder. "And we _were_ talking about killing. About the mission. You changed."

Yelena flinched, and Natasha crowded in closer. "What did you remember, darling girl?" she asked softly, still stroking her hair.

"Music," Yelena whispered, eyes sliding shut. "Can you hear the music?"

Triggers. The Red Room had loved musical cues.

She began to sing softly, calming Yelena. "Listen to my voice, Lena. We might need to find someone to help us get the triggers out of your head."

 _"No!_ I can do this, I can do this, I'm not a failure..."

"You can't compromise the mission," James said quietly. "It would put us all risk. Do you want Natasha to die?" he asked, brows furrowed. Yelena shook, wailing. "She's the heart of us, the one that will make a home for us. Don't you see? Whatever the Red Room did to you, she moved beyond it. She even was able to get me remembering things between missions."

James looked at her, love and longing clear in his eyes. Memory and purpose and belonging, being something other than a soulless killer. _Because I love you, James Buchanan Barnes, as much as I am capable of loving anybody._

"I'll be a good girl," Yelena said with a whimper, shifting to kneel in front of Natasha and James, head bowed. "I won't move when you hit me, I won't scream. I promise. I won't scream. You can test me, I'll never scream."

Natasha pulled Yelena in close, willing herself not to cry. Whenever Yelena behaved just like Starkovsky, the bastard's abuse wasn't too far behind. "I know you won't scream, Lena," Natasha whispered, having the blonde curl in and clutch her close. "I know you're good. You've even saved me in the dark, you know. We just need to fix your mind. Something's not right with your memory, and I can't do that alone."

Yelena looked up, that frightened and frightening look warring for control. "I'll kill them. I will, you know. If they go mucking about in here, if they try to take you from me... I'll kill them all, I'll like it, and I'll dance on their graves."

Letting out a long, slow breath, Natasha gently pushed Yelena away. "You need to sleep, Lena. I will take care of everything."

She fell to the bed like a marionette with its strings cut, instantly asleep. Natasha found that disturbing, and was gratified to see concern in James' eyes. "She's getting worse."

"Being around you hasn't made it better," James commented. "She's deteriorating."

 _What if you had to choose? What if you could only have one?_ Hel had said. _Enjoy the time you have left._ She had her seers, she would know how much time was left.

Natasha couldn't choose, couldn't do that. She clung to James, mouthing his neck and reveling in the feel of his arms around her. "I don't know how to help her."

"Maybe you can't."

_What if you had to choose?_

"She found _me,_ James. I didn't go looking for her. She told me to leave and never come back, and I didn't. I thought you were dead. I was without you for so long..." Natasha leaned her head against his chest, eyes sliding shut. She remembered different hands and chests and lips and mouths, different bodies over and under hers. What did it all matter? Someone had to do it, and it might as well be part of her attempt to balance her ledger.

"Maybe we're not meant to be fixed, Natalia," James told her gently. "Maybe we're too broken to be fixed."

"I can't believe that," she murmured, looking up at him. "They fixed me."

James smiled, slow and sad. "Natalia, you were never broken. There was nothing to fix in you. Taking triggers out of your head? That's not fixing you. That doesn't make you broken. We all have things like that, even if not as obvious as what the Red Room did to us." He touched her cheek and tipped her head up so he could kiss her deeply. "You were the best of us, Natalia. You always were."

"If I'm the best, then I can save you."

He laughed, a low and bitter sound that didn't wake Yelena. "We don't deserve saving. Look at us. All we do is kill."

"The ones we're killing aren't innocent. We're taking them out of the equation when laws can't," she said quietly. "It's a necessary evil."

"Do you really believe that?"

"I have to."

"And that makes you better than me," James murmured. Before she could ask him what he meant, he picked her up in his arms and kissed her roughly. She wrapped her arms around him, deepening the kiss, then wrapped her legs around him when he began to walk toward the wall with her.

She grinned when her back hit the wall. "If you make me scream, we'll wake Yelena."

"Then don't scream."

It was like old times, muffling cries and flinging clothes around the room, tongues and teeth and lips and hands roaming everywhere, his cock thick and full inside her before she was even really ready, desperation making it rough and hard and fast. Natasha raked her nails across his shoulder as if she could shred his skin and the metal connected to it, as if she could erase his years as the Winter Soldier, as if she could pretend that none of this was real. He filled her up, assaulted her senses, and _she loved him,_ desperately and wholly, one of the few bright things she had in her Red Room days.

He held her pinned to the wall afterward, his hair in his face. "This site will kill us, maybe. Or it will prove us invincible."

"I hope it's not our undoing."

James nipped at her lip with his teeth, then slid out of her. Natasha let her legs fall from his waist so she could stand again, ignoring the slick sensation on her thighs. "I'll get materials to make the bombs we need. It will be done. I know my duty."

Protect the Widows. Fulfill the mission. At any cost, even at the expense of his life.

Natasha closed her hands over one of his as he turned to leave. "Come back to me. Whatever you do, come back to me."

He grinned confidently. "Don't I always?"

Her answering smile stayed on her face until he left the room. It faltered, and she saved her tears for when in the shower. She remembered times she thought he didn't return, when she thought she had killed him. She swallowed down the scream she wanted to make and hit the wall repeatedly before sagging against it. She was in over her head, too late to save herself, too late to save everyone else. How did she think she could do this? How did she think she could remain in control of everything?

James at least believed in her. He didn't know how painful it was to have to live without him, to try to remain so tightly controlled. Natasha was grateful that he never had to endure that kind of grief, and hoped he never would.

***

"So." Sam looked around Kushiro with Loki, who was dressed in a rather understated fashion in order to blend in. "You ever do the searching thing before?"

He thought of the time he spent on Asgard with Natasha investigating the deaths of jarls and karls, looking for clues that he otherwise would have ignored. "Some."

Sam nodded. "All right. Probably the basics. Now, I'm pretty sure that Natasha is not going to be walking around looking like herself, and we have no current photos of Yelena."

Loki had seen her in visions, but was that the same thing? He was mostly silent as they walked around the city, but Sam didn't seem to mind it. He booked a hotel room "on SHIELD's dime," he cheerfully reported, but Loki didn't care. He could have commanded someone to give him a room or created one of his own. Sam was so proud of being able to help Steve and Natasha, though, and Loki didn't have the heart to dash his hopes when he seemed so nonjudgmental toward Loki's past. Was this a friendship?

"You can stay," he offered. "I wish to walk on Yggrasil," Loki explained at Sam's questioning look. "I wish to see if there are signs of her that I can find that way." A lie, but Sam didn't need to know that.

Sam accepted that, and it made Loki feel almost guilty about his lie. But he stepped through a portal into Yggdrasil, close to where Amora's rings were located. They were still encased in dragon bones, untouched by the denizens of the Tree. Loki hoped that it meant others couldn't sense the power in them, or assumed that it was the power of the Tree itself.

He knew better than to draw too close, as tempting as it was. In some reality, he and Natasha were married. She loved him. There was even a child. Longing burned through him, a painful ache in his chest that would not ease. She was hurting too, wasn't she? Was there perhaps something left of their bond?

Sitting down near the caged rings of power, Loki closed his eyes and struggled to get his breathing under control. He was hungry, aching, _needing._ That always made him scream or lash out in anger, but that would be a disservice now.

"I don't know what to do next," he said aloud into the ether between Yggdrasil's branches. He opened his eyes and took in the Void all around him. He felt so small and insignificant, so out of control. Natasha always kept her emotions in check, was always in control.

 _Always?_ he thought suddenly. He had broken through her reserves, though it hadn't offered him the pleasure he thought it would. She had periods where he could see right through her, where he knew she was in pain. And at other times, she didn't behave the way he would expect her to. Taking on the venom, taking on Asgardian lovers, sacrificing herself for everyone else and now this wanton killing...

Loki had been empty for so long, and Natasha had kept filling in the cracks in his soul. It was at great cost to herself, and he didn't imagine that she would do any different with Yelena or the Winter Soldier. They knew her first. They had claimed her first, in that deadly and dangerous upbringing she had. All she knew was sacrifice and pain.

He suddenly reached through the bone cage and grasped the carnelian ring he had first retrieved for Natasha. She had worn it, however briefly, and it had altered her passions. Loki grit his teeth, determined not to let it do the same to him. _Natasha. I will find you. I will help you, whether you like it or not, and I will bring you home. You're not safe with them, you're not safe with me. I will walk away if that's what you need..._

It would kill him, but he would do it. He would spend the next thousand years alone and isolated in some forgotten pocket of Earth if that's what it took to keep her safe.

There was a sharp tug behind his breastbone, as if someone was trying to rip the bone out of his body. He gasped and let go of the ring, skittering backward and opening a portal behind him back toward Sam and the hotel room in Japan. Though he didn't turn around, Loki could sense Sam's shock and surprise. The man had never seen one of his portals before, let alone what the World Tree looked like in its true form.

But he was staring at a vague outline, something like the shape of Natasha. She looked at him, tears in her eyes, then turned away. Her skin peeled from her body, and she fell to her knees. Her collapse was painful to watch, and she covered her head with her arms, as if trying to make herself into a smaller target.

Sam reached through the portal before Loki could choke out a warning. But the man's touch on his shoulder was steady and grounding, and Loki looked up at him with a vulnerable expression on his face. "That looks pretty freaky," Sam told him. A master of understatement. "And I don't think that's real, is it?"

The outline of Natasha wavered and then dissipated like smoke. In its wake was some kind of grid pattern, and Loki dimly realized it was Kushiro.

"Huh. Whatever you did worked. Freaky as all get-out, but it worked."

Loki could hear the awe in Sam's voice, and suddenly was grateful he hadn't outright lied to Sam after all. This was one man that held him in some kind of positive regard, and it wasn't out of obligation. Sam thought well of him, didn't think he was a soulless monster that couldn't be redeemed. Perhaps he could even believe it himself.

"The when is difficult to pin down," Loki said, his voice coming out as a rasp. "I don't—I don't feel well," he said quietly, seeing a tremor in his hands. "I shouldn't have used the rings."

"Rings?" Sam asked in concern, starting to haul Loki up to his feet. "Mind bendy stuff?"

"Yes," Loki said, allowing the other man to draw him back to Earth, back to the hotel room in Kushiro. Back to the real Natasha, somewhere in the city.

"Okay," he said, nodding and simply taking it in. "You sleep first shift."

"But—"

 _"Sleep,"_ Sam commanded. "This is mind bendy shit that leaves you weak and easy for me to push around. That can't be a good thing, don't even bother lying to me." He pushed Loki toward the bed. "Besides, I can see as well as you, and I saw the bright spot on that map."

Bright spot? Loki hadn't seen a bright spot...

Sam pulled out their Kushiro guidebook as soon as Loki laid down. He spread out the fold up map inside of it, pursing his lips slightly as he looked for what he had seen. Finally, he marked it with a black X and left the pen in the book as a bookmark. "I'm heading out to scope out the territory. You sleep, dammit. If they try to kill me, I'm gonna need you to bust my ass out of whatever trap they set."

Loki suspected he was speaking this way to deliberately taunt him and distract him from his own weakness and despair. If so, it was working. "Sam..."

"I got this," he declared, heading for the door. "Besides, I'm black. It's dark out. You're one pale motherfucker, Loki. You'd stand out in the dark and everyone will see you."

"I can turn invisible."

"Yeah, that's a spell," Sam replied, unruffled as he reached for the door. "But then, people never seem to see me even when I'm standing right there. Might as well use it to my advantage."

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Loki looked at Sam doubtfully. "And if you find them?"

"I call you and we stop them. I'm not suicidal, man. I'm not taking them down alone."

He nodded at Sam, weariness settling into his bones. "All right, then. Be safe."

While he was startled at being let off the hook without a fight, Sam nodded and headed out of the door. Loki curled up onto his side on the bed and shut his eyes. Somewhere in this city, Natasha was killing herself by inches.

He hoped they could find her before all hope was lost.

***

Yelena woke disoriented, and her eyes snapped open. Her surroundings were unfamiliar, but that didn't mean very much. She frequently was in all kinds of unfamiliar situations, but often could make do and figure out how to pick up the pieces and keep going on. She didn't have much option; too many relied on her to fail.

The sight of the woman lying next to her, even though her hair was black now, calmed her down immediately. _Natasha._ She was safe with Natasha, who was curled up around her and had likely dozed off while on watch. Which in and of itself was bad – Starkovsky would scream bloody murder about how ineffectual she was as a Widow, how she was a blight on the program – but also told Yelena how safe they were at the moment. Natasha would never fall asleep in a place that wasn't safe to. As much as Starkovsky would denigrate her skills, Natasha had been the best pupil in the Elites. She was the brightest one, always got the highest marks, always got the difficult jobs completed. She had rarely needed the intervention of the Winter Soldier once he trained her properly.

She knew she was a close second to Natasha, but Starkovsky railed at her to do better. She had to improve, she had to be the best. Yelena was the pale little spider, second best, never quite good enough to get the job done. She could always hear his voice, even when she didn't want to; he never quite shut up even if he wasn't the one in control.

Sitting up woke Natasha, who was instantly alert. "Is everything all right? Did something happen?" she asked. There. See? She was still a proper Widow, still able to wake and defend herself, even if she had nothing at hand. Her entire body was a weapon, her appearance deceptive to a casual observer. Yelena's was even more so, given her delicate features.

"I just woke up."

Natasha visibly relaxed, and she slid an arm around Yelena's shoulders. "Are you all right now, Lena? Things weren't going well before."

Things? _Oh._ Yelena nodded and leaned into her touch. "You know how I can be," she temporized softly, then pressed a kiss to the underside of Natasha's jaw. "The Hand, they trouble me. I want this done and over."

Natasha's sigh was soft, her tacit agreement. "But then long term," she began.

"Long term will be under our control," Yelena promised. The Other would surely keep her in check better once the Hand was gone. The Other knew what was going on, was the oldest of all the fragments, and was protective of Yelena. It knew how much she loved Natasha, how the two of them protected each other in the Red Room. It wouldn't let Starkovsky win.

"Your _mind,"_ Natasha clarified gently.

Yelena shifted and pinned Natasha to the bed beneath her. There was a spark of anger, but it wasn't directed at Natasha. Natasha didn't know, couldn't ever know, wouldn't understand, and she had to be protected. Natasha was the only one that mattered.

"Natalia," Yelena purred, lips curling into a soft and seductive smile. "I am what I am supposed to be. We're together, Natalia, we're safe."

She could see the uncertainty on Natasha's face, and Starkovsky tried to come to the fore, vile words dripping like poison from his lips. Yelena dipped her head down to kiss Natasha, silencing him, and Natasha responded to her touch.

"You worry too much, Natalia," Yelena purred as she nipped at Natasha's jaw. "Come, it will be all right as long as we're together."

"James went out to get bomb materials," Natasha told her. While her voice was all business, her hands came to rest on Yelena's waist.

"You see? The plan is in motion." That was as much for Starkovsky's benefit as for Natasha's, and the old bastard settled in for a sulk.

Moving slowly, tantalizingly, Yelena peeled away Natasha's clothes and kissed the skin as it was revealed. Natasha sighed, as if she hadn't intended for this to occur, but she didn't protest and she didn't stop Yelena. She worried too much, she always had. Yelena had always been able to push away her dark thoughts, and this would be no different.

Natasha bucked and moaned when Yelena dipped down to capture a breast in her mouth. "Sh, Natalia," she crooned softly, mouthing the valley between her breasts. "Let me take care of you. I know how hard it's been for you, not knowing what was happening. I promise I'll make it up to you, Nata." She licked the other peaked nipple, and grinned wickedly up at Natasha. "I still know how to do this."

Fingers sliding into her heat quieted any protest she might have made. Yelena licked at sucked at her breasts, then moved down to kiss and lick the soft skin. Then her tongue went where her fingers were, and ah, the taste of Natasha was as wonderful as she remembered. It was easy to ignore Starkovsky with this as a distraction, his angry and denigrating words falling away into the ether in the back of her mind. The Other would keep him locked away for a time, until he slipped his bonds and came roaring back up to the surface.

Yelena loved Natasha, and the Other knew this. She had little enough pleasure in her history, not enough gentle touch and love, especially when Starkovsky was about. The Other did its best, but Yelena couldn't always be hidden away fast enough. Sometimes Olga had to step in, or Titania, but they didn't handle it very well. Starkovsky was cruel, even now tormenting the girls when they couldn't get away from him and the Other didn't lock him down tightly enough. He had grown stronger these past few months, the rise of the Red Room fueling his cruelty. He had lain dormant for too long, and now was determined to make up for lost time.

The taste of Natasha on her tongue, Yelena hummed and sang in bliss. Some of the humming actually came to the fore, making Natasha laugh and say something about how happy Yelena was, how glad she was the prior episode was over.

 _It's not over,_ Starkovsky snarled, pushing past Olga. Titania actually tried to grab hold of him, but he kicked her viciously. _The little whore! Ivan's whelp isn't good enough for the title of Black Widow. We should kill her!_

The Other swept in, past the sobbing girls, pushing Starkovsky down, down, down. But he was getting stronger and stronger by the day, and it was harder to lock him away. It was harder for Yelena to hide him.

 _Is Ophelia there?_ came a soft voice. Shit, Lina. _He wasn't talking about Ophelia, was he?_ she asked tremulously. _I miss her so much..._

 _Go back to sleep, Lina,_ Yelena tried to say, pushing her back. She tripped over the girls, cowering in the dark, and Yelena slipped herself.

Without anyone in control, the body continued of its own accord. Her touch was not as sure, her kisses feathery light and almost absent, as if falling asleep. Natasha even asked if she was too sleepy, if she should return the favor.

"No," Alexei said, jumping in to cover for Yelena. He grinned at Natasha, eyes alight with mischief. "Who said I was done with you?"

He and Fatima fucked her mercilessly, lips and teeth and tongue and fingers moving until Natasha was hoarsely crying out, her body convulsing beneath their mouth and fingers, a fine sheet of sweat on her skin. "Lena, Lena," she panted, twisting, needy, her cheeks beautifully flushed. They played her exquisite body like a fine instrument until Yelena could slip back into place, grinning and purring with the taste of Natasha on her tongue. "God, Lena," Natasha whimpered, reaching for her. "It's like the old days..."

Yes, it was, wasn't it? That was at once heartbreaking and endearing. She remembered, she did, but there were times when Natasha seemed distant, too. Yelena didn't think there were others inside of her, not separate as hers were. Natasha claimed to have gotten rid of her triggers, to have shed her past identities. She was only Natasha, and used other personalities as tools to get a job done, not believing they were real. Yelena wasn't so sure, but didn't want to break poor Natasha's heart by telling her the truth. There was no way to escape the Red Room, no way to slip past its long shadow. She thought they could, but it was becoming increasingly obvious that they couldn't. The Red Room hadn't really died.

The Winter Soldier returned, expression grim. He was loaded down with supplies, and Natasha tried to pull a sheet around herself to hide her nakedness. As if the Winter Soldier hadn't seen her naked before, or tasted of her treasures. Yelena wanted to snort, but would let Natasha have this one illusion of dignity.

Starkovsky _howled_ when the Winter Soldier told them about a man that seemed to have recognized him on the streets. Dark skinned, dressed in dark, contemporary clothing, not quite good enough at tailing someone to truly hide into the night.

"Sam," Natasha breathed, sitting down heavily on the bed and appearing stunned.

"They won't have you," Yelena promised, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. "You're mine."

The Winter Soldier was looking at Natasha intently, sensing her upset. "He followed me, looked as though he wasn't alone. He moved like a soldier."

"He's paramilitary rescue background," Natasha said, voice soft and pained.

"A healer," the Winter Soldier said, understanding why she was upset. She nodded silently.

Yelena pressed her lips together. "Was he trying to stop you?" she demanded imperiously. She ignored the stricken expression on Natasha's face at that; it was taking all of her energy to try to push Starkovsky back. He was calling for blood now.

"He saw me," the Winter Soldier explained. "I had to stop him. He's still alive, and I'm sure he'll find his way back to his friends. But I couldn't allow him to stop me," he said, his voice toneless but his eyes sharp as he took in Natasha's distress. It was a friend of hers, and Yelena recalled that they had promised to leave her friends alone. They cared for her, they just wanted her safe. They didn't understand the power of the Red Room.

Starkovsky was jeering at her, saying she was weak, she should be killed for this. _He's a spy! He's dangerous! You're a pathetic, sniveling weakling for allowing this to continue. How could I ever have thought you worthy of the training? Of the life? You're pathetic. Weak. You're good for nothing but the slit between your legs, you useless whore!_

No, she wanted to say, but Yelena flinched and couldn't speak. The Winter Soldier and Natasha wouldn't understand this, and she didn't want them to. Better that she house Starkovsky, keep him away from them.

 _Someone has to die!_ he screamed at her.

"We need to move up timetable to firebomb the training house," Yelena said. A measure of Starkovsky was in her words, and he was pleased with that. It silenced him, allowed her to push him back and the Other to lock him in again.

But he would get free. He always got free.

"The surrounding area—" Natasha began, choked.

"I'm sure it will be contained," Yelena said with breezy confidence. "And if it's not, well, it's the price to be paid. It's not our fault that the Hand hid their training house in the middle of a bunch of civilians. How can we be sure that they're really civilians, anyway? They look just like everyone else. For all we know, the city is crawling with Hand spies and recruits." She shrugged indifferently and started for the bathroom. "Let them all burn."

Natasha turned her stricken eyes toward Yelena, but it was far too late to turn back now. She had to push forward, had to keep going. Maybe then the nightmares would end.

***

As the fires burned in Kushiro, Loki found Natasha. Time stopped all around them, even the flickering flames halting in their deadly dance. She was staring at the flames, mesmerized, leaning slightly forward as if she would tumble into them.

 _No!_ he thought, reaching out to grasp her shoulder. Time unstuck for her, and she whirled around to face Loki. A mixture of anger and fear and incredulity was on her face, and it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

She was alive and still knew him.

He pulled her into his pocket portal, the hideaway looking the way it had the last time she had been inside of it. Loki clutched her close, feeling as though this might be the last time he saw her. She already seemed different, and it wasn't just because of her altered _spá._ "I feared you were lost," he blurted as she pushed him away, eyes wide as they took in her form.

Natasha had black hair, much as she had in her mission with Emilia. She was dressed entirely in black, in clothing that clung like a second skin. Ash and the scent of smoke clung to her, and there was the feeling that she was deeply unhappy, though Loki couldn't tell why he would think such a thing. There was nothing obvious in her appearance or stance to tell him so.

Before she could even say a word, Loki tilted his head to the side and looked her in the eye. "I love you. Even if you never love me back, even if I am never worthy of it, I love you."

"Loki," she began, her expression shuttered.

"I pulled you out of time," he interrupted, coming closer and sliding a hand along her cheek gently. "I know you don't want them harmed, that you think you can draw them into your circle the way your Hawk did for you. I just... I needed to see you again. I needed to know you're all right. Our bond is gone, she destroyed it. And I worry for you..."

By the Norns, he was babbling like a boy. But some of the indifference slid from her gaze, and it warmed the empty reaches of his heart.

"I'm all right, Loki. I'll be okay."

But she didn't look okay, she didn't look in control. He feared for her sanity and safety, and the urge to keep her in this hideaway was strong. It would undermine her authority, infantilize her, make her hate him. But she would be alive, and maybe that was better? He didn't know. A thousand fears and thoughts ran through him, and he nearly shook from the force of it.

Natasha leaned up on her tip toes, brushing her lips against his in a gentle kiss. "I'm fine, Loki. I can take care of myself."

But she wasn't, he wanted to scream at her. He could see it, which meant she had to feel worse than that. Natasha would never show him a weak spot, never. So she had to be unaware of it, which was rather frightening indeed.

She slid her formfitting clothes from her body, leaving her bare to his gaze. Blooms of bruises covered her body, and he sank to his knees in front of her. Had she no care for her safety? Oh, but he knew the answer to that one by now. Why else would she have started this all in motion when she took his cock in hand while his own were wrapped around her throat?

He lifted her leg over his shoulder, baring her slit to his gaze. She tasted the same, the flavor he craved even in his dreams, and he devoured her avidly. Natasha slid her fingers into his hair as he used his mouth, making her gasp and jerk against his face. He knew her body, knew what she liked and how to give it to her. When she cried out, hovering on the edge of orgasm, he plunged his fingers into her as he sucked on her clit. It didn't matter that she pulled at his hair sharply when she came, hips bucking and back bowing. Loki used his magic to lay her down on the pile of soft furs and spread her legs wide for him. _I love you,_ he wanted to tell her over and over again, until she tired of it, until she regretted knowing him. _I love you._

Instead, he removed his clothing and slid his erect cock into her, moving slowly and reverently, as if she could divine his thoughts from his touch. Natasha wrapped her arms and legs around him, holding him close, her breath stuttering in her chest. She moaned and writhed, too open to his touch, her responses too honest.

They had stripped away her defenses, had left the core of her exposed. Had he been the same man he was years ago, he would use this to his advantage. Now he worried for her, fucking her slowly and thoroughly.

Those two were going to destroy her, and she was going to let them. And there was nothing he could do about it.

Natasha came again, tight and wet around his cock. He spilled into her, hips stuttering, and he pulled a thread of magic into his body to keep from softening. It was too soon, too soon, he couldn't let her go. He needed her too much, and he could only have her body right now.

Loki mouthed at her neck and then seized her mouth with his. By the Tree, he had missed her so much, the fierce challenge in her eyes and the way she never let him get away with anything. He needed her to rein him in, to keep him honest. He understood that now, what she meant by saying that Frigga had done him no favors. She never gave him limits, and now he did nothing but push at people to discover them.

 _I love you,_ he wanted to say as he layered her face with kisses, as he gathered her up into his arms. She felt too thin, as if she was fading away even as he held her. _Gods, no, anything but that. I will carve myself to pieces if it means saving her..._

On her hands and knees, Loki held her hips and fucked into her at a rapid, punishing pace. She cried out, grasping at the furs beneath her. He used magic to tease Natasha's clit and breasts, to hold her still as he overwhelmed her senses with pleasure. She couldn't forget him, couldn't leave him, no, no, no...

He came again, then turned her onto her back. She was slicked with her own juices and his spent seed, and Natasha opened herself to him willingly. Perhaps she felt the desperation in his touch, the need he had for her. Perhaps she had some of that feeling for him as well. Natasha held him close when he collapsed over her, finally spent. Her arms and legs kept him inside her body, and he could hear her erratic heartbeat. "I've given you what I can," she murmured, stroking his back tenderly. Loki closed his eyes, wondering if this was her way of saying goodbye.

"I still need you," he whispered. "They do, you've said that, but I need you, too."

"I can't leave them."

 _But you have to!_ he wanted to shriek at her. _Can't you see they're killing you?_

Instead, he remained silent. "I miss you," he said after a moment.

"I can tell," she replied dryly, lips curving in her usual wry smile. Just seeing it made his heart sing with untold joy.

"Can't you stay?" Loki asked softly. He knew she would refuse him, and could see it in her eyes before she said a word. Resting his fingers against her lips, he stopped her from speaking. "I could help you if you let me, Natasha. Please let me."

She tucked his hair behind his ears, a tender motion he hadn't expected. "I can't. I have to do this by myself. I'll be all right."

Loki knew she wouldn't be, that she wasn't at her best any longer. "Let me help you, Natasha. I can't bear to be apart from you." He kissed her deeply and tenderly, delight flooding him when she responded to his touch. "I can be invisible, stay close to you as I have before."

"Not this time," Natasha murmured, cupping his face in her hands. She nipped his nose gently, then moved him aside so she could dress again.

"Our tie was broken, Natasha," Loki murmured as he dressed. "Let me rebuild it."

Look at how far he had sunk, how low she had brought him without trying to.

She smelled like ash, smoke and sex, but Loki was fixated on her shaking head. "I'll be all right, Loki," she insisted. "I promise. You know how I keep my promises."

They wouldn't let her keep this one, he knew they wouldn't. _He_ wouldn't have allowed it if he was in their shoes.

She pulled him down for a kiss, and he knew it as the goodbye it was. "Bring me back, Loki."

Though she wasn't using her domme voice, Loki pulled his magic around himself to ready a portal. "Can I say anything to convince you to come back with me?"

Her smile was sad, and she touched his arm with such gentleness, it had to be an apology. "No, there isn't. I have to see this through."

He could refuse her. He could follow her. He could kill Yelena and the Winter Soldier. But any one of those options would hurt her, and he didn't want to do that.

The portal opened beside him, the fires still frozen in place. It was the exact moment he had taken her out of time. Yelena and the Winter Soldier would find her without any difficulty, and her other friends would be left without her.

"You'll see me again," Natasha promised as she stepped through the portal.

She believed it, but it still felt like goodbye. Loki stayed in his hideaway, watching the darkness swallow her up as she walked away.

The End


End file.
